Cold Wind Blows
by TheInsaneDuckkie
Summary: AU of the great work of George RR Martin. Cersei and Robert conceive a son, Prince Arthur, second born son of Robert but by far the favourite. I own nothing. Rated M, It's Game of Thrones; Every GoT fanfic should be marked as M.
1. Introduction

**Cold Wind Blows**

_This is an AU of George R.R Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' universe but it will follow, in a way, the plot of the series. The story will integrate the Legend of King Arthur into the story. I do not own anything, nor do I claim to._

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

* * *

A gentle summer breeze coerced a light splatter of rain to splash incessantly down upon a royal entourage as it slowly moved north up the Kingsroad. The party was filled with two banners: the royal banner of a black stag with a golden crown around its beautiful black antler's, resting upon its head, dancing on a bright yellow background and the other banner was a golden lion poised on a field of red. At the head of the column was a group of men, seven of which were garbed in white, in both armour and cloaks. They encircled a large portly man of a quite large girth. He had dark hair and a great, big bushy beard that hid his many chins from view. His cheeks were bulging and dyed red from the consistency of wine he was drinking.

Beside him rode two others, a man in blue and black armour and a boy of five and ten years dressed in riding leathers of blended black and brown. The man was Ser Gwaine Storm, bastard son of the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and the Sworn Shield to Prince Arthur Baratheon, who was the five and ten boy riding beside him. The Prince and his Shield were cousins, but they looked like brothers.

They were both built big, but they were different builds; Ser Gwaine held the brute strength and body style of the Baratheon's, a hulking mass of muscle whereas Arthur was tall and lean with the similar freakish strength all Baratheon men were renowned for. They held chiselled faces; with prominent cheek bones and the same squared jaw which held a stubborn point. Many people had once stated that Arthur resembled a young Robert so much that, if the two of them at the same age and they stood side-by-side they would be twins. For that reason, even though he could not yet grow a full beard, Arthur Baratheon was clean shaven but Ser Gwaine was not.

Behind the two men was the Halfman, Tyrion Lannister, a dwarf with mismatched eyes and dirty blonde hair. He sat in his special saddle with a skin of wine in one hand and a block of cheese in the other. He had a rugged, squashed face and his green eye contrasted sharply with his black eye, both of which blended together for a rather unnerving stare.

Between the front of the entourage and the mid-point, which was the Queen's Wheelhouse, was three dozen men; a mixture of Baratheon and Lannister men alike. Riding alongside the Wheelhouse was the Crowned Prince, Joffrey Baratheon and his Shield Sandor Clegane. A force of 2,000 men, bearing the sigil of both the Baratheon stag and the Lannister Lion, were trailing after the Wheelhouse.

The company were travelling north to Winterfell so that King Robert Baratheon could speak to his foster brother Lord Eddard Stark about the death of the foster father Jon Arryn, and for Lord Stark to become the Hand of the King. They had set out a week ago and had scarcely covered ground. The journey to Winterfell, without carriages, would be a 25 day journey but the Wheelhouse was slowing them down, stopping every few hours, typically two hours before dark at the behest of the Queen.

They were approaching Harrenhal and King Robert had ignored his wife's declarations of stopping just short of the once great keep. They had entered Harrenhal and were greeted by the Lady of Harrenhal, Shella of House Whent. She housed them graciously and fed them. They rested the night and on the morrow, they were back upon the Kingsroad.

Arthur was certain his father had fucked several wenches in Harrenhal and if he was being truthful, it was to be expected of the Whoremonger King.

* * *

They were nearing Moat Cailin, almost three weeks into their journey north, when the Queen ordered the stop. They had travelled at the crack of dawn and it was now nightfall. The Queen had stopped the Wheelhouse and had ordered the party to a halt. The King had been furious. Even now, Arthur remembered the shouting match between his mother and father which resulted in his mother storming off into the woods with a resigned Jaime Lannister chasing after her. And now the King was in his tent with two or three whores and a lot of wine. Arthur sighed and nodded to his Shield and he entered the Wheelhouse which contained his siblings.

Tommen and Myrcella were asleep but Joffrey was admiring Lion's Tooth; his finely made castle forged blade. Arthur felt the relationship he held with Joffrey was rather…odd. Before Joffrey had turned eight, the two of them were as thick as thieves; it was rare you saw one without the other. Until Joffrey had dragged his brother to a pregnant cat he had found, slit its throat and forced him to watch as he cut open the feline's naval, removing its unborn kittens, chuckling to himself as he did so. Arthur had been sick and could not look his brother in the eye for weeks. He had later confided in both of his Uncles Stannis and Tyrion about that escapade and the result was Joffrey losing two teeth to his father's fist.

Joffrey's eyes snapped up to look at his younger brother who was regarding him with silent revulsion. "What?" The Crowned Prince demanded. Arthur stared at him and said nothing. He sat down next to Myrcella and Tommen.

"Uncle Tyrion wishes to dine with you, myself, Myrcella and Tommen." Arthur informed him crisply.

Joffrey scoffed. "I am a Prince, I will not be ordered by an Imp!" He declared darkly. Arthur narrowed his blue-green eyes at his elder brother before his gaze swapped from one sibling to the other; he shook Cella and Tom awake. "Come on little ones, Uncle Tyrion is waiting." Arthur led his younger siblings out of the Wheelhouse and left Joffrey inside.

"What does Uncle Tyrion want?" Myrcella asked in a sweet curious tone. Arthur grinned at her and scooped Tommen into his arms and took her hand in his larger one.

"For us to sup with him dear sister." Arthur responded with a small smile as he and Myrcella walked to their Uncle's tent. Myrcella yawned silently and shuffled along after her elder brother. Tommen had fallen asleep in Arthur's arms, his body tucked into his brother's chest snuggly.

The siblings entered their Uncle's tent and Myrcella let go of Arthur's hand and nearly knocked Tyrion over in her haste to hug him with a cry of 'Uncle!' She had awoken Tommen who scrambled out of Arthur's arms and he too ran at Tyrion. Arthur chuckled as he watched Tommen bowl into Tyrion and Myrcella, forcing the three of them into a small huddle on the floor. Arthur's laugh echoed through the tent.

Tyrion shot him a dirty look. "Come on and help me, you're a knight aren't you?" Tyrion had chuckled at the scowl he received from the 'Lion with Antlers'.

"I am but a squire Uncle." Arthur reminded the dwarf, but nonetheless he helped up the trio of laughing bodies up of off the floor.

"And soon you will be one of the greatest knight's to roam the Seven Kingdoms." Tyrion smiled pleasantly and moved to the table with fine food. "Boar from the last hunt." Tyrion said as he took a seat.

Tommen and Myrcella sat down on the same side of the bench and Arthur took his seat to the right of his uncle.

"Does your father know when we shall arrive at Winterfell?" Tyrion asked as he cut into a bit of boar. Arthur shrugged as he cut pieces of boar for his little brother and sister.

"Soon I imagine." Arthur took a draught of wine. "But he is none too happy with Mother." Tyrion chuckled.

"When is he ever?" Tyrion asked, sipping the summer wine. Arthur smiled and placed a sizeable amount of boar into his mouth. The beast was excellent; succulent and juicy with a mixture of herbs to better enhance the flavour.

Tommen and Myrcella ate their dinner and they were soon fast asleep in Tyrion's bed while Uncle and Nephew sat up talking throughout the night.

A few hours after their dinner, Arthur and Tyrion were quite drunk.

"So tell me my dearest Nephew." Tyrion slurred out. "How is your dear lady?" Arthur blushed pink. Ten moons ago, Tyrion, Jaime and Robert gave Arthur a fat purse and a week leave for the boy to attend to a whorehouse. He had travelled to Chataya's brothel and he had returned a week later with the purse still full and a slight limp. He would not reveal who he had slept with during the week but Tyrion suspected it to be the only whore working in the brothel who was, surprisingly, a maiden and the suitable age for the Prince. He had saw her before and Tyrion knew from his female companions that her name was Ariana Sand.

"She is fine." Arthur replied drunkenly. "She is truly a great person Uncle." Tyrion said nothing but his grin was prominent.

"She tells me she wants to be _mine_, no one else's." Tyrion regarded his nephew with a sense of sobriety. Mayhaps his nephew could be tricked.

"And the name of this dear lady who has claimed the cock and the heart of Ser Prince Arthur, the Lion with Antlers?" Tyrion rambled on the title.

Arthur chuckled. "I am very drunk Uncle, but not drunk enough to divulge such secrets." Tyrion sighed sadly. "But dear Uncle, did you hear about my Mother's reaction?" The Prince asked.

Tyrion nodded. "She forbade you from leaving the Red Keep. And to never see the 'whore' again."

Arthur smiled. "Thankfully Varys helped me out." Tyrion regarded the Prince with open curiousness.

"You are very queer my Prince." He said at last and Arthur responded by booming out his laughter in a similar way to a very, very drunk Robert. Tyrion chuckled alongside him. Very queer indeed.

* * *

Arthur sagged in his saddle as did Tyrion to the left of him. The duo were suffering from killer headaches from their hefty amount of drinking last night. Ser Gwaine smothered a chuckle as he and Ser Jaime Lannister observed the Prince who had a tight grimace on his face. The Kingslayer offered Ser Gwaine a smile and a plan. Ser Gwaine smirked and watched as Jaime rode up alongside his brother as Gwaine did the Prince.

"My little brother." Ser Jaime sang heartedly. Tyrion shot him a very dirty glare. "Drank a little bit too much have you?" He sang loudly. Arthur groaned.

"Come on little Prince." Ser Gwaine spoke loudly. "The sun is high and the breeze as gentle as a maid's caresses. We are well on our way to Winterfell." Arthur turned his bleary gaze to Gwaine.

"Do shut up Gwaine." The Shield smirked but didn't shut up as he started to sing the Prince's favourite song.

"_A bear there was, a bear, a bear!_

_All black and brown and covered in hair!_

_Three boys, a goat, and a dancing bear!_

_They danced and spun, right to the fair!"_

Jaime picked it up next:

"_Oh, sweet she was, and pure, and fair!_

_The maid with honey up in her hair!_

_He smelled her on the summer air!_

_The maid with honey up in her hair!"_

Several of the Kingsguard picked it up, as did several of the guards behind them.

"_From there, to here. From here! To there!_

_All black and brown and covered in hair!_

_He smelled that girl on the summer air!_

_The bear! The bear!_

_The maiden fair!"_

Arthur was still glaring at Ser Gwaine but he was attempting, unsuccessfully to squash down a smile. Tyrion stared ruefully at a grinning Jaime.

"_Oh, I'm a maid, and I'm pure and fair!_

_I'll never dance with a hairy bear!_

_I called a knight, but you're a bear!_

_All black and brown and covered in hair!"_

Bellowed the front half of the royal entourage. Tyrion then glanced at Arthur who was cringing at the pain, and he opened his own mouth to add his own words to the song.

"_He lifted her high in the air!_

_He sniffed and roared and he smelled her there!_

_She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair!_

_When he licked the honey from her hair!"_

Arthur's gaze flew to him and he smirked at his nephew who sighed and stubbornly turned to face the road ahead. Tyrion just knew that his nephew would break. The entirety of the guards in the party were shouting the lyrics to each other, laughing heartedly and dancing across the Kingsroad.

"_From there to here. From here! To there!_

_All black and brown and covered with hair!_

_He smelled that girl on the summer air!" _

Then the smile reappeared on the Prince's face and he too joined his comrades and sang:

"_The bear! The bear!_

_The maiden fair!_

_And the bear, the bear!_

_The maiden fair!_

_And the bear, the bear!"_

The column of the entourage were singing with shouts of glee and laughter as their voices picked up volume.

"_She sighed and she squealed and she kicked the air!_

_Then she sang: My bear! My bear so fair!_

_And off they went into the summer air!_

_The bear, the bear,_

_And the maiden fair!"_

Arthur's voice increased in volume as did the voices of Ser Gwaine, Ser Jaime and Tyrion. Their voices carried and pretty soon it was possible to hear the roaring of King Robert as he sang along with voice of an overweight drunk.

"_From there to here. From here! To there!_

_All black and brown and covered in hair!_

_He smelled that girl on the summer air!_

_The bear! The bear!_

_The maiden fair!_

"_And the bear, the bear!_

_The maiden fair!_

_And the bear, the bear!_

_The maiden fair!_

_And the bear, the bear!"_

Laughter ensured after the song was finished and Ser Gwaine was grinning like a fool. And then Arthur opened his mouth and out trailed the first line of 'Six Maids in a Pool'.

"_Six maids there were in a spring-fed pool…"_

* * *

For the rest of the day, the entirety of the Royal household had sang along to whatever song had suddenly struck the fancy of either Ser Gwaine or Arthur. When they rested for the night, the King had said that Torrhen's Square was north-west of their position, and was less than a two day ride away, which meant that Winterfell was a three or four day's ride from their current location.

The King had taken Joffrey and Arthur aside, Ser Gwaine and the Hound were at standing behind the two Princes. "Tomorrow Joffrey, you and Arthur will ride side by side, as you will do until we reach Winterfell; Arthur you are to wear your armour." Arthur nodded but Joffrey opened his mouth to protest.

"But Father, I am the Crowned Prince, I should ride on my own." He sputtered. "It is absurd for the two of us to ride together."

Robert ground his teeth together and glared at his Heir. "You've been in that damn Wheelhouse ever since we left King's Landing boy. I will not have this family shamed in front of the Stark's, especially when they see their Future King riding like a fucking women in his MOTHER'S GODS DAMNED FUCKING WHEELHOUSE!"

The King's already wine dyed cheeks bloomed a pomegranate red and Joffrey paled and blushed pink before he nodded stiffly to King Robert and stormed from the King's tent.

"Sometimes," Robert started gruffly, pouring two cups of wine. "I wish I had sent him to Casterly Rock to be fostered, Tywin Lannister would have sorted him out. But, the Old Lion did a good job with you, my boy." The King finished, sending his son a proud look.

"Thank you, Father." He said. "Uncle Renly and Uncle Stannis, I believe, also did good jobs." Arthur added awkwardly.

He had been fostered at Casterly Rock when he was seven years-old, just after the incident with the kitten. His Grandfather, Lord Tywin, was strict and unyielding, but was an outstanding tutor. He taught everything he could to Arthur for three years, be it sword fighting, patience or the ability to be a great battle commander.

The only praise he had achieved from his Grandfather was when he had said that Arthur had his Father's battle voice; a very compelling voice that bolstered spirits and commanded men into loyalty.

After three years with the Old Lion, he went back to the Capitol. Twas fine until Joffrey had mention Arthur's name, insinuating bastardry. The Queen had denied this as she was the one who birthed the boy. Regardless, Arthur had struck Joffrey, beating him black and blue. Queen Cersei had ordered Robert to send Arthur to Stannis for discipline, but thankfully the King had sent him to Renly first and then Stannis after two years with Renly at Storm's End. Arthur had then moved back to the capitol with Ser Gwaine in tow, and he had been squiring for both Ser Jaime and Ser Gwaine for a year.

King Robert chuckled low in his throat. "Aye, they did. A man could not wish for a finer son." Robert regarded his second born. "A lot of men want their children to do better than they did. And you have." He looked away from his son and dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

Arthur bowed his head and pivoted on his heel as he walked out of the tent. He glanced at Ser Gwaine. "Allow me to get my sword and we'll spar." Gwaine nodded.

"I'll get Ser Jaime." He said and he turned and headed in the general direction of Ser Jaime. Arthur turned and headed to his tent. He quickly found his sword, Roaring Fury, and unsheathed the blade to admire the craftsmanship. His father had it forged for him on his 13th Name Day, it was Valyrian steel and it was crafted by re-forging many Valyrian steel daggers. Arthur had worked on it himself.

The sword was a Hand-and-a-Half sword and its grip was ironwood with an antlered stags head pommel. The pommel was extremely unique; it was fashioned from the wood of a Weirwood tree, and it was carved in the shape of a stag with a real golden crown wrapped around its neck. The grip was wrapped in light brown leather in a criss-cross pattern.

He shook his head and sheathed the blade, buckling the sword belt on over his hardened leather riding clothes. The thick leather would hold in a spar. Arthur left his tent and then started to search for his mentors, both of whom he eventually found in an empty field surrounded by the Kingsguard.

"Prince Arthur." Ser Gwaine greeted when he neared. "Are you ready?" The Prince nodded and unsheathed his blade; his actions were mirrored by Ser Gwaine.

The blades came up into the air and the duo settled into their respective stances. Ser Gwaine was trained by a man from Essos, who held the name of Jürgen, in the arts of combat. Ser Gwaine in turn was tutoring Arthur in the hand-to-hand combat in the martial arts form of fighting while Ser Jaime was passing on his knowledge of swordplay to the young Prince. He, like his father, felt more at home fighting or making love than he did anywhere else.

Ser Gwaine and Arthur circled each other, their eyes assessing the other, searching for a weakness. It was Arthur who attacked first, the Prince launched himself through the air as he gracefully lunged at Ser Gwaine.

The knight parried the attack and countered with a measured stroke. Arthur leaned out of the way and attacked with a daring ferocity. He swung high and low, heavy and light and Ser Gwaine backpedalled from the onslaught.

Arthur pressed his advantage and Ser Gwaine danced away from the blade, his body gracefully manoeuvring behind Arthur. He slashed at the Prince as Arthur spun around and their blades met in mid-air, latching on to each other. Arthur gripped Roaring Fury with two hands and pressed his weight and strength into the blade even as Ser Gwaine did the same.

Arthur's legs tensed, waiting for the perfect opportunity to display the move his Uncle Jaime had sprung on him a few weeks before they had set out to Winterfell. Just as Gwaine gritted his teeth and more pressure applied on his side of the clashing blades, Arthur exited the blade lock and using momentum that pushed Ser Gwaine forward with a surprised shout, he kicked the knight's feet out from under him.

Ser Gwaine reached for his sword and froze when he felt the tip of a rather sharp sword at his throat. His stormy gaze locked onto the green-blue of his squire and a rueful smile worked its way around his lips. "Good fight my Prince." Ser Gwaine said.

"Do you yield?" Prince Arthur asked, his voice unwavering and his form still and solid.

"Aye." Gwaine said mournfully. A small smirk worked its way onto Arthur's face and the Prince held out a hand.

Gwaine accepted graciously. "We shall see if you can replicate such a feat when we arrive in Winterfell my Prince." Arthur nodded and then Jaime stood drawing his own blade.

"Come on then nephew." The Kingslayer challenged, beckoning with his sword. Arthur gripped his sword and charged his Uncle.

* * *

After he had suffered tremendous losses to Ser Jaime, Ser Barristan the Bold, Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Mandon Moore and utterly trouncing Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Preston Greenfield of his Father's Kingsguard, Arthur and Gwaine both walked off with the latter of the two aiding a bruised and exhausted Arthur back to his tent.

Gwaine deposited Arthur on his bed and settled down onto his own cot as the peaceful slumber forced his eyes to shut.

In another part of the camp, two people were discussing Arthur; King Robert Baratheon and Ser Barristan Selmy.

"Did you know that Arthur defeated Ser Meryn and Ser Preston?" Barriston asked the King who flickered his deep blue eyes up at him.

"Did he now?" Robert responded with a gruff chuckle. "That's my boy, fucking girls and battering men." Robert exploded into hoarse laughter.

Ser Barristan's brow furrowed in sight bemusement. "My King?" He ventured the question curious.

Robert laughed. "He's got himself some maiden wench from Chataya's brothel, won't even tell us her name." Robert downed the remainder of his wine and refilled the leather tankard. "The Kingslayer, the Imp and myself gave him a purse bursting with golden crowns and he comes back a week later with the purse full." Robert laughed again.

"We gave him the coins to keep and he disappeared with them. The Imp asked him what he'd spent the gold on and, do you know what the cheeky little shit did?" Robert asked chuckling. Barristan shrugged.

"He'd bought the girl a house and all manner of fine clothes, so he told it. He gave her the rest of the gold dragons." He cackled once more.

"He's a good man. Do you remember his hunt at 13?" Barristan nodded.

"He killed a magnificent stag." Robert grinned savagely.

"Aye, he came at it with a knife and ended up snapping its neck barehanded." The King drank from his wine. Barristan smiled at that. "It tasting fucking great!"

When a Baratheon was 13, he traversed on a coming of age hunt where, with a weapon of his choosing, he tracks a stag and kills it. He then takes its antlers so that they may be fitted onto his helm.

When Joffrey was 13 he had killed a young buck with a crossbow and Robert was both enraged and ashamed. "A coward's weapon!" He'd spat at his firstborn. But the pride he had felt for Arthur when he had killed a great stag was immense. And without a weapon at that.

He had gloated about the fact for over a year until he had submerged himself in his whores and wine. But that didn't stop Joffrey from hating his brother.

The boys were stark contrasts of the other; while Joffrey favoured his Mother's side, Arthur was the perfect mixture of both of his parents. Joffrey hated to fight and much like Renly, he preferred politics to fighting and clothes to swords. But he had a taste of bloodshed. Barristan still shivered as he recalled the kitten incident.

Arthur however was completely different: Arthur was his Father's son through and through, with his love of fighting and fucking but he had the deductive mind of his Uncle Tyrion, his swordsmanship skills were harnessed from his two mentors Ser Jaime and Ser Gwaine. He had his Uncle Renly's taste of fashion and his Uncle Stannis' unwavering sense of right and wrong. The Lion with Antlers had one of the most important traits many knights didn't: honour and loyalty. He also kept any promise he made, no matter how big or small, and he never went back on his word.

Barristan and the King sat there still as statues until Barristan took his leave.

* * *

**What do you think? Should I keep on going or just leave it?**

**Also, I urge you to read 'The Lion with Antlers' by TheHatMan98 if you have not done so already, for it was his story from which inspired my own.**


	2. Ser Gwaine Storm I

**Cold Wind Blows**

_This is an AU of George R.R Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' universe but it will follow, in a way, the plot of the series. The story will integrate the Legend of King Arthur into the story. I do not own anything, nor do I claim to._

**Chapter 2: Winter Wonderland**

* * *

The pitted patter of horse hooves rumbled along the dirt road leading into the great Northern stronghold for the former Kings in the North as the Baratheon entourage entered Wintertown.

Ser Gwaine Storm rode alongside his loyal friend and Cousin Prince Arthur and behind the forms of the Hound and the Crowned Prince. The two cousins laughed and joked all the way to Wintertown, the voices booming loudly from behind their armoured faces.

Prince Arthur wore steel plate armour with golden hues embedded into the edges of the plates and a white tunic with the sigil and words of House Baratheon were displayed proudly on his chest. The sword, Roaring Fury, at his side and the fur of a black fox was wrapped around his neck with a cloak of black cloth descended down his back. Upon his head rested his antler helm which finished the ensemble.

Ser Gwaine wore much the same, but in different colours of black and blue and without the antlered helm. His armour was dark steel plate and he wore a thick tunic of black leather. His sword was at his hip and a fur cloak of fox pelt rested around him. His helm was black steel also and like the rest of his armour, there was ripples of iridescent blue sheens on the black steel armour.

The two pulled to a stop, Prince Arthur's laughter dying down through his helm. The Prince dismounted his horse and removed his helm. Gwaine removed his own and searched through the faces of their waiting party.

The bastard son of Renly observed a beautiful girl with red hair staring admiringly at Joffrey, but he also caught her slight flickering eyes as they regarded an oblivious Arthur as he shook his hair and ran a hand through it.

Gwaine smothered a chuckle unsuccessfully. "You Princess." Arthur glared at him.

"Shut up Gwaine!" Ser Gwaine chuckled at his cousin's demand.

"Whatever you say … Princess."

Arthur growled in frustration as Gwaine dismounted his horse with a large smirk on his face. Arthur opened his mouth to retort but he shut himself up when King Robert rode into view.

Almost immediately, their hosts bowed to the King who required the aid of three different people to remove his huge body from an equally large horse. With an easy stride and a stone chiselled face, the King stopped in front of Lord Eddard Stark and beckoned him to rise.

"Your grace." Ned said with a small head incline. Ser Gwaine observed his Uncle's reaction; who's deep blue eyes were searching Ned's face with a slight hunger. The King took in his best friend and he spoke his first thoughts.

"You've got fat." He spat without malice. Ned Stark's eyes widened a fraction in shock as he nodded, subtly, at the King's big belly. Both of them then proceeded to reach out in raucous laughter and embrace each other.

Gwaine's eyes turned to Prince Arthur who was watching the scene with amusement. He leaned down to Arthur and whispered in his ear. "Go and help your Mother and siblings out of that bloody wheelhouse." Arthur blinked but nodded and he strode over the wheelhouse where he aided his mother's handmaidens, his little brother and sister and his Mother out of the warmth of the house on wheels and into the crisp Northern air.

Ser Gwaine's eyes flickered around the castle, searching for danger subtly. He turned back to Arthur when the Prince's amused eyes locked with his own.

"I'm not going to be jumped and assassinated in Winterfell." He said when he neared. Gwaine could not even open his mouth to respond. "And even if there was a hidden assassin, I'm the second child and Joffrey would be the one in more danger then I." Gwaine grimaced but nodded.

"I know, and I sincerely doubt that there is an assassin Princess, but even-"

"Do shut up Gwaine, your too bloody protective." Arthur rolled his eyes fondly.

Ser Gwaine smirked. "Well I could tell you about my time in a tavern with a young female suitor and her angry yet protective father but there are innocent ears present." Arthur laughed, drawing the attention of the Stark's and the King.

"My children." Robert informed Ned, raising a huge hand and beckoning his four children. Arthur shared a bemused look with Gwaine before he ushered his younger siblings forward and Ser Gwaine rolled his eyes at the Crown Prince who directed his horse to the Starks.

"My heir Joffrey." King Robert said indicating the boy who was still seated on his mare. "My second, Arthur the Black Lion," The King laughed and clapped a meaty hand on the back of Arthur's shoulder. "My youngest two, Myrcella and Tommen." Gwaine laughed loudly as Arthur turned to glare at him.

The King glanced at his wife, as did Ned. "My Queen." He bowed, kissing her knuckles.

The King turned to Ned. "Take me to your crypts; I want to pay my respects." Ned nodded and turned to lead the King to the crypts.

"We've been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait." Queen Cersei protested.

"Ned." The King ordered shortly without breaking his step when said man stopped walking. Lord Stark nodded and carried on walking.

Ser Gwaine slowly approached Arthur and he heard 'Where's the Imp?' by one of the Stark children. Queen Cersei shoved past him after she had glared at the person who had uttered those words.

"Your Mother looked furious." Ser Gwaine told the Black Lion.

He laughed. "I know. He's probably scampered off to the brothel." Gwaine's eyes widened a tad and he smirked at the Prince.

"I'm actually surprised you're not with him Princess." He laughed at the Prince who sputtered and turned red. Myrcella and Tommen giggled at their embarrassed brother while Joffrey sneered and turned his horse away.

Ser Gwaine turned his eyes to the giggling Princess. "Come along little one." Myrcella, still giggling took his hand as he scooped up little Tommen who wriggled and squirmed.

"Let me down." The little boy protested. "I'm a big boy!"

Gwaine laughed and carried on walking, leaving behind a severely embarrassed Arthur with a highly amused group of Starks.

* * *

The servants had already prepared a hot bath for their guests, their foresight relieving a tired Gwaine from a daunting task and allowed the bastard knight to soothe his tired muscles in the water and rid himself of sweat and grime that had built up over the past few days.

Gwaine did not know how long he had been in the bath but the water was no longer hot, and to prevent himself from falling ill, he had dried himself off. The knight donned his under-armour robes and buckled his sword belt on. Ser Gwaine ensured his belt was tied properly and sheathed his sword.

The people of Winterfell were bustling around the courtyard and Ser Gwaine strolled through the mass of scurrying people munching merrily on a rosy red apple as he did.

"Gwaine!" The man in question turned and observed a now clean but clearly incensed Prince Arthur storming toward him.

"Alright Princess?" Ser Gwaine asked mockingly. The glare on the face of Arthur was amusing.

"Shut up." He said. "Do you know where my Uncle Tyrion is?" Ser Gwaine shook his head.

"I wouldn't worry Arthur, Tyrion can handle fucking a few whores before the feast tonight." Gwaine observed his friend's face.

"Yes but I've got a bad feeling in my gut." The Prince said as the duo's legs travelled in the direction of the Godswood of Winterfell.

"Ooh, should I call the guards to fetch your Mother and have her tickle your stomach to make you feel better?" Ser Gwaine japed, laughing at the unamused look on the face of Arthur.

"Shut up Gwaine." Arthur grumbled. "Be serious. I've got a funny feeling about this visit."

Ser Gwaine opened his mouth to jest but closed it at the furrowed brows of Arthur. He seemed genuinely disgruntled. "It's probably your imagination Princess." He said uneasily at the awkward silence between the two.

Arthur didn't meet his eyes. "Yeah, probably." He muttered distractedly. "I'll see you later." Arthur said as he pivoted on his heel.

Gwaine's blue eyes smeared the back of Arthur and the knight frowned in thought, his mind pondering what could cause such emotions to rise in the Black Lion with Antlers.

* * *

**AN: The ages of people.**

**Robert, Renly, Stannis, Ned, Cersei, Catelyn, etc., are aged up five years.**

**Theon Greyjoy – 22**

**Ser Gwaine Storm – 18**

**Jon Snow – 17**

**Robb Stark – 17**

**Daenerys Targaryen – 16**

**Joffrey Baratheon – 16**

**Margaery Tyrell – 15**

**Arthur Baratheon – 15**

**Sansa Stark – 13**

**Arya Stark – 11**

**Bran Stark – 10**

**Myrcella Baratheon – 10**

**Tommen Baratheon – 7**

**Rickon Stark – 6**

**The rest of the people remain the same age as in canon.**

**And also, I would like to thank Malyx Blackfyre, aishiteru naru, TheHatMan98, Saint River, Naruhina1519, SimFlyer, Master of Dragons God, Silver Crow and Guest for reviewing this story.**


	3. Jon Snow I

**Cold Wind Blows**

_This is an AU of George R.R Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' universe but it will follow, in a way, the plot of the series. The story will integrate the Legend of King Arthur into the story. I do not own anything, nor do I claim to._

**Chapter 3: Feasting Fights**

* * *

Darkness had accompanied the sunset and soon it had submerged the land around Winterfell in darkness. The Great Hall was filed with many patrons and lords all awaiting the arrival of the Royal family and the Starks. Sitting next to Jory Cassel was Jon Snow, the only bastard of Lord Eddard Stark.

The bastard observed as his family entered the Great Hall with the Royal family; His father escorted the Queen and the King escorted Lady Stark.

Behind them trailed Robb escorting Princess Myrcella, Prince Joffrey escorted Sansa and Prince Arthur escorted Arya. Jon withheld a smile as he observed his little sister, the she-wolf, dressed in a dress of Stark colours. What shocked him the most was the laughter Prince Arthur was getting out of Arya, especially when she was in a dress.

And then Bran, Prince Tommen and Rickon were shepherded in by the Lannister brothers.

Jon laughed along with everyone else when the King started the feast, but silently he pulled a mug of ale toward himself along with a plate of venison. As he ate, Jon felt a pair of eyes on him and he looked up to see Arya and Prince Arthur looking at him.

He flushed and looked down. The seat rumbled and he looked up once more to observe Ser Gwaine Storm helping himself to a few cuts of boar and a tankard of mead.

Jon looked down again and continued eating. More than once he felt a few gazes upon him and he decided they were either Prince Arthur's, his sister's, Ser Gwaine, Lady Stark or all of them, and as such he ignored them to the best of his ability.

Until a hand clapped his shoulder heavily. He spun around in surprize and his face lit up when he realised who it was. "Uncle Benjen!" He greeted, hugging the man.

"Rode all day," Benjen said with a smile when they parted. "Didn't want to leave you alone with the Lannisters." Similar grey eyes stared at each other. "How come you're down here on your own and not up there with your brother?" Benjen asked.

Jon swallowed. "Lady Stark thought it would be an insult to seat a bastard under the noses of the Royal family." He said. Benjen frowned.

"Well, you're always welcome on the Wall. No bastard has ever been refused a seat there." Benjen said. Jon paused, his mind working five miles a minute.

"So," He said slowly. "Take me with you when you go back." Benjen opened his mouth to refuse.

Jon cut across him quickly. "Father will let me, if you ask him … I know he will."

Benjen looked away and Jon peered up pleadingly at his Uncle. The grey eyes of House Stark gave new meanings to the puppy eyes.

"Look Jon, the Wall isn't going anywhere." Benjen said softly and Jon sighed, his face losing the emotion he was showing before.

"I know I am ready to take the oath." Jon said, he was consciously aware of Ser Gwaine's pondering gaze. That particular gaze unnerved him.

"You don't understand the sacrifices we have to make; we have no families and none of us can ever father sons." Jon tuned out the last bit, he didn't care about having children.

"I don't give a damn about that." He said vehemently. Benjen sighed solemnly.

"You might, if you knew what it meant … this discussion can wait until you've fathered a few bastards of your own." Benjen said as he turned. Jon narrowed his eyes and gripped his Uncle's forearm.

"I will never father any bastards." He hissed. Benjen's gaze flickered sadly to him and Jon stormed out of the Great Hall.

He ran through the courtyard and up into his room, jumping the steps two at a time. He burst through his door and immediately proceeded to strip off his clothes. He picked up his clean training clothes and retrieved his sword.

Jon then traversed to the training area of the keep. When he arrived, he was surprised to find Prince Arthur and Ser Gwaine watching him with two blunted swords. At the side of them, propped up on the fence on which they sat was another blunted sword and Jon frowned.

"There you are, finally." Ser Gwaine exclaimed joyously. "Come along boy, we don't bite." Jon, against his better judgement, approached them.

Prince Arthur observed Jon with his blue-green eyes. "Gwaine told me of your desire to become a man of the Night's Watch." He said without preamble. Jon's eyes danced to Ser Gwaine and he nodded.

Arthur said nothing and stared. "Begging your pardon, my Prince, but what concern is it of yours?"

Suddenly Ser Gwaine laughed. "I like him." He chortled. Arthur smiled.

"Aye." He agreed. "Tell me Jon Snow, are you leaving to join the Night's Watch because you have to, to get away from your Father's Lady Wife or because you desire to freeze your bollocks of on that Wall?"

Jon's eyes hardened. "For myself and to protect the realm."

"Ah, a man of honour." Ser Gwaine mocked. "Protecting the realm from the wildlings and the frosty abode of White Walkers and all of the other things that go bump in the night."

Jon glared at the knight suddenly. "You Southrons are all the same. You look down your noses at us of the North." He said. "The Night's Watch is a noble and honourable order that protects the realm."

Ser Gwaine laughed again. "He's got a sharp tongue." He declared in jest. "Lord Tyrion will like him."

"I'm sure the rapists and the thieves and murderers that are sent from the Southern prisons to the Wall are just as honourable as you Jon Snow." Prince Arthur said grimly. "I'm not here for my benefit, but I am here at the behest of your little she-wolf of a sister."

Jon said nothing, but he stared and he felt his curiosity increase at the request his favourite sibling.

"She asked me to help her, to prevent your departure to the Wall, and I gave my word that I would attempt it." Prince Arthur said as he stood. Jon watched as he threw the sword he had in his hand at him. Jon managed to pluck the weapon out of mid-air and he threw Ser Gwaine a question glance.

The knight smirked and charged him. Jon scrambled back the sword coming up to the block the strike of the knight.

"What are you doing?!" Jon demanded, furiously backing away as the knight swung harder and he came closer. Ser Gwaine did not deign him with a response. Jon cursed under his breath as he parried, blocked and dodged the attacks.

"Come on bastard," Ser Gwaine spat. "Fight back!" Jon knew he was being baited but he swung with calm ferocity.

His sword swiped through the air and the clanging of metal rang throughout the sparring hole. "That's better!" Ser Gwaine roared. Jon grunted and swung but he had misplaced the attack and Ser Gwaine easily strafed away from the clumsy lunge.

Jon felt a sharp kick hit the back of his knee joint and he crumpled to the floor. Almost snarling, Jon stumbled to his feet and noticed Ser Gwaine was waiting for him. As the sword was brought down, Jon held his own up and the blunted blades met with a sharp ringing.

Jon pushed all of his strength into his sword and shoved Ser Gwaine away from him. The knight seemed surprised by such a move. Jon grimaced and blocked another strike from Ser Gwaine, but then he countered kicking the knight in the chest with immense power. The cocky knight yelled in surprise but kept hold of his weapon.

Jon pointed the blade at Ser Gwaine's throat. "Yield!" He ordered. Ser Gwaine laughed.

"You yield, boy, or I'll cut ye cock off." Gwaine chortled and laughed harder when Jon doubled over in shock at the blade pointing at his private parts.

"I yield, I yield!" Jon shouted hurriedly. Prince Arthur walked out clapping slowly.

"That was good." He said simply. "Nice finishing touch." He added to Ser Gwaine.

The knight snickered. "Thanks Princess."

Prince Arthur turned his attention back to Jon and his eyes scanned him from head to toe. "He is a remarkable fighter, would you not say so Ser Gwaine?" Arthur asked as he circled Jon.

"Aye, a bit rough around the edges, but he can be refined." Ser Gwaine responded.

"Was that a test?" Jon asked, cutting across the Prince as he opened his mouth to respond.

"Aye, we can call it that." The Black Lion murmured. "You're coming to King's Landing with us when we leave." He said.

"Now, if you'll excuse me…" The Prince bowed his head and pivoted on his heel. Jon watched him leave with genuine disbelief.

"What is he talking about?" Jon asked the knight.

"What's my name?" The knight questioned, ignoring Jon's question.

"Ser Gwaine?" Jon queried hesitantly.

"Ser Gwaine Storm actually." He said and Jon felt his eyes widen. "I'm the son of Renly Baratheon, his one and only bastard. And I also happen to be a knight." Jon felt his head hurt and it definitely was not due to the ale he had drank.

"If you do not wish to go even further north that here, then I offer you my knowledge and request that you become my squire." Jon was flabbergasted.

"Why are you asking this of me? You owe me nothing." He asked.

Ser Gwaine frowned. "Prince Arthur is known to have some honour when it comes keeping vows." He parted company from Jon Snow with a few last words.

"By the way bastard." Ser Gwaine smirked. "Here's a bit of advice a close friend gave me when I was younger; never forget what you are. The rest of the world shall not, so why should you? Wear it like you would armour and it can never be used to hurt you."

Jon just watched as he left, absorbing the parting reply from Ser Gwaine. He looked down at the sword in his hand and swung it at the training dummy in anger.

* * *

"I take it from your grumpy expression that Arthur and Gwaine spoke to you?" Arya's voice startled Jon so much and he jumped in shock, his heart beating rapidly.

"Gods Arya!" Jon said, turning around and noticed the Princess at her side. "Princess." He bowed awkwardly.

"Jon," Arya said impatiently. "Please tell me your thinking about Gwaine's offer."

Jon frowned at her. "Alright, 'I am thinking about taking _Ser_ Gwaine's offer'." He shot her an amused look when she growled at him.

Jon smiled but yelped when she punched his arm. "Arya!"

"Stop whining, it didn't hurt you." Arya said. "Gwaine and Arthur said we do not need to use their titles." Jon rolled his eyes.

"Shouldn't you be doing your embroidery little sister?" He asked, unable to think of an acceptable retort.

"No, Cella and I wanted to watch the sparring." She said matter-of-factly.

"Indeed." Princess Myrcella smiled. Jon glanced uneasily between the two; Arya and Princess Myrcella had become fast friends during the stay of the royal family.

"You missed Bran and Prince Tommen spar." Jon informed them. "Robb and Prince Joffrey are preparing to fight now." Together the unlikely trio were observing how the Heir of Winterfell and the Crown Prince fought.

It was utterly one-sided, Jon thought. If the tales his Father had told him about his best friend's anger were true then it was evident the Crown Prince had all of it. After he had been humiliated by Robb in less than five moves, Joffrey moved up to the stands and the second born Prince stepped up.

He was wearing simple leather armour, a stark contrast the elaborate Baratheon armour he had worn when he had rode into Winterfell. Prince Arthur had stood in the centre of the sparring pit when Ser Gwaine stood up.

They exchanged words unheard by Jon or his companions. And then they fought; it was amazing.

Even though Ser Gwaine was a man grown and superb with a sword, Prince Arthur seemed to be almost better and it was only due to the older man's experience that Jon suspected Ser Gwaine could hold his own against the Prince.

But he could not have been more wrong. The knight was straight-faced and he was cautious. Jon wondered why.

"That's because Arthur beat Ser Gwaine during their sparring match on the Kingsroad." Myrcella said and Jon started; he blinked and nodded. He cursed himself for not controlling his tongue but, thank the Gods, Princess Myrcella did not mind her title being used when she was addressed.

The fight below, Jon could see, was slowly raising in Ser Gwaine's favour. Prince Arthur was calmly on the defensive now and Ser Gwaine was slowly eating away at the Black Lion's defences.

Gwaine's attacks brought Arthur on his back but the Black Lion was stubborn it seemed; he kicked the legs out from under Ser Gwaine and rolled back on to his feet. Gwaine launched himself onto his feet but he was caught unawares from the sudden ferocious onslaught from Prince Arthur.

The duo locked their blades and Gwaine shoved Arthur away from him. Now clearly angry, Jon noticed Arthur's sword swing with astounding speed and had it not been for Ser Gwaine's free left hand coming up and blocking the strike, he would have been cleaved in two. And then Ser Gwaine brought his sword down. Luckily, Arthur wrenched a tight grip around Ser Gwaine's sword arm. The two butted heads gently as they spun around, still in the clenched up sword lock.

Jon was pretty sure he weren't the only person observing whose jaws dropped when Ser Gwaine dropped his sword and let go of Prince Arthur's arm. As the sword met with no resistance and very nearly struck the bastard knight, it lodged itself into the dirt. Arthur growled and quickly released his hold of the sword but he was now without a weapon to defend himself with and he was at a severe disadvantage.

Ser Gwaine's fist snapped itself across the Prince's face who quickly retaliated with a punch of his own. Gwaine moved out of the way and plucked his fallen sword from the floor. Arthur ran at Ser Gwaine but halted when he realised his situation; and Ser Gwaine's blade met no defence as it pointed at Prince Arthur's neck.

Jon's eyes were wide and his jaw was hanging low. This man, this spectacular warrior had to have been the greatest fighter he had ever seen before. Mayhaps Jon could learn a great deal of knowledge from him.

"…Jon?!" His sister's voice cut through his inner monologue.

"What?" He asked, and Arya huffed.

"I said are you going hunting with Father and all of the others?"

Jon paused, considering her question. "No I can't, I promised Bran I'd help him with his archery." Arya nodded, seemingly pleased.

"Now go on, otherwise you're Mother and the Septa will have my hide." He said to the Princess and his little sister.

The two little girls giggled and ran away from him. Now to find Bran.

* * *

**Okay, so I figured I'd just gloss over something's here; I believe that Henry Cavill is someone who fits the description of a young Robert and considering Arthur is his younger twin…**

**Another thing; Ariana Sand will be introduced in a three or four chapters (hopefully), and if you want to have an idea what she looks like, try Melanie Iglesias.**


	4. Tyrion Lannister I

**Cold Wind Blows**

_This is an AU of George R.R Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' universe but it will follow, in a way, the plot of the series. The story will integrate the Legend of King Arthur into the story. I do not own anything, nor do I claim to._

**Chapter 4: Hunting**

**Edited: 23/02/2015**

* * *

Although he loved the euphoric taste of the rich wine and all other manner of alcoholic beverages, Tyrion knew he abhorred the after-drink feeling. The headache, the drowsiness, the grumpiness; it was like an illness that could only be cured by drinking a little bit more.

The headache only increased when the Hound jostled him by sitting down on the small wooden box he was using like a throne. The raspy voice of Sandor Clegane ripped his head open.

"Rough night, Imp?" His voice rasped the question as if he was desperate for air.

"No," Tyrion groaned. "If I make it through this without squirting from one end or the other, it'll be a miracle." The Hound chuckled in his dog growling way.

"I never figured you to be a hunter." Sandor said as he fixed his boots.

Tyrion smirked. "Oh the most fearsome in all the land; my spear never misses."

Clegane snorted in disgust. "It's not hunting if you pay for it." He rose and disappeared leaving Tyrion alone with his thoughts.

"Surely my eyes are deceiving me." Tyrion blinked his eyes open to see Prince Arthur standing in front of him holding the reigns to both his own horse and Tyrion's. "My Uncle is coming along for the hunt?" Tyrion laughed.

"Why not my dearest nephew?" He asked and Arthur gave him an amused glance.

Arthur shrugged, his face still alight with amusement. "Because I picked you to stay behind with your books, your wine and those glorious set of tits your keep burying your face in."

The Imp struggled to his feet. "How about we both skip around the back and I'll pay for the best night of your life." The Halfman offered. Arthur laughed.

"Impossible." The Prince said, mounting his horse with ease. "I've already had it." Tyrion laughed as he jostled himself up onto his horse, using the wooden box he was using to sit on as a ladder.

Tyrion easily caught up with Arthur. "So your little wench gave you the best night of your life?" He asked and he was quite astounded when Arthur's jaw clenched.

"She's not a wench; and I would advise you to never call her that again." Arthur said. Tyrion nodded.

"Forgive my insult nephew, it was not meant." His mismatched eyes regarded Arthur openly. Arthur nodded.

Tyrion sipped a small amount of wine from his skin. "Is that wise Uncle?" Arthur asked after a moment.

"No, probably not." Tyrion's black and green eyes lingered on Arthur's blue-green. "You never did tell me the name of your special lady friend." Arthur eyed his Uncle.

"That's because my Mother may get word of it." Arthur said. Tyrion smirked.

"Do you really expect me to go out of my way to speak to my dearly beloved sister just to get you into trouble and possibly kill the innocent girl?" Tyrion chuckled mirthlessly. Arthur regarded Tyrion sceptically but the Halfman knew Arthur would tell him, if only to abate the frustrating questions.

"Ariana." He said at last. "Ariana Sand. But I need your word you will not tell my Father, or Uncle Jaime or Mother." Tyrion nodded.

"You have my word Arthur." Tyrion said and Arthur nodded, urging his horse forward. Tyrion observed King Robert stopping his huge warhorse just before his.

"Can you manage this hunt Imp?" The King asked. Tyrion regarded his good-brother coolly.

"Yes, your grace." The King nodded.

"Try not to fall behind." Was his parting reply.

Tyrion observed the King usher himself along to Ned Stark, the Quiet Wolf, were they spoke for a few minutes.

"Right boys," The King shouted. "Let's go and kill some fucking boar!"

Arthur rode up alongside his Father, handing the fat King a hunting spear. Tyrion then accepted his own off of Arthur.

The hunting party soon entered the Wolfswood and Lord Stark had lead the group to the usual hunting grounds of boars in the Wolfswood. The hunting party had gained quite a few kills; Robb Stark, with the help of the Greyjoy boy, bringing down a young buck and King Robert and Lord Eddard killing three boars each.

Tyrion had even killed his own boar with the help of his nephew. The boar was old and battle hardened which granted the Imp the slight respect of King Robert. Prince Arthur had also brought down two boars; one on his own and another with the help of the Heir of Winterfell.

"Come on lads!" The King roared heartedly. "Make way for Winterfell."

They had taken a carriage with them and it was filled with the meat of the hunted animals. When they emerged from the Wolfswood, Tyrion noted Arthur and Robb Stark were quite pleased that there was still daylight.

The Halfman rode up to his nephew. "What are you and Robb Stark planning?" He asked and Arthur laughed.

"Not much, just some sparring." Arthur smiled. "A test of mettle. It will help me to be prepared for the Hand's Tourney back in King's Landing."

Tyrion made a noise of slight agreement. "Didn't you spar before we went hunting?" He pondered. Arthur nodded.

"Do you wish to watch us Uncle Tyrion?" Tyrion paused.

"I think I might." He said after a moment of consideration.

Arthur flashed him a grin. "Great!" The young Prince dismounted his horse and aided Tyrion out of his saddle.

The unlikely companions walked side by side until they reached the sparring ring. Tyrion occupied a position on the fence, next to Ned Stark's bastard.

The first to spar were the younger ones, a change, Tyrion noted from the earlier spar; if the slight confused widening of the eyes from Jon Snow were deduced correctly. Bran and Tommen fought, which Tyrion used to speak to the bastard.

"They are remarkably young fighters those two." Tyrion said and Jon Snow's brooding gaze locked onto his mismatched one.

"Aye they are." Tyrion noticed the bastard observing him out of the corner of his black eye. "You're Tyrion Lannister; the Queen's brother." Tyrion nodded.

"And you, you're Ned Stark's bastard, aren't you?" Tyrion responded and Jon's face grew cold and hard. He turned away and Tyrion winced. "Did I offend you? Sorry."

Jon gazed at him. "But you are the bastard though." Tyrion pressed and Jon clenched his jaw.

"Lord Eddard Stark is my Father." Jon Snow whispered and Tyrion nodded.

"Yet Lady Stark is not your mother; making you the bastard."

The youth gazed angrily at the fighting forms of the young energetic Bran Stark and Prince Tommen. "Why do you care?" Jon said at last.

Tyrion smirked. "I wanted to give you some advice." Jon regarded him with the guarded curiosity of a Northman. "The same I gave to another bastard when he was younger than you."

"Ser Gwaine?" He asked frostily.

"Yes, Ser Gwaine." Tyrion considered him amusedly. "I assume he had already passed that on?" Jon nodded and Tyrion gave a half-smile.

"Good, then I need not repeat myself." Tyrion said as his gaze swapped from Jon Snow to the sparring children just in time to see Prince Tommen gain the upper hand and knock Bran to the floor.

"I thought that – I mean…" Tyrion looked back at Jon Snow calmly. "When Ser Gwaine gave me that advice, I'd expected it to come from another … bastard." Jon said and Tyrion nearly laughed from the inside.

"Most dwarves are bastards in their Father's eyes." Tyrion said. _'Especially me.'_

Jon said nothing but his gaze held some pity and a slight disbelief. Tyrion turned away to observe the final sparring round.

Tommen was being advised by Arthur just as Bran was by Robb. Ser Rodrik Cassel ordered them to start the spar and immediately, Tommen launched forward; the stick he was using clacking loudly with Bran's as they engaged in a fury of weak strikes.

The bout ended when Tommen tripped over Bran's feet and tumbled to the floor taking Bran with him.

Arthur's laugh reached the ears of the spectators as he approached his younger brother. Tyrion smiled slightly at the brotherly love the two had for each other, as Arthur aided Tommen up and sent him on his way to the Lannister side of the sparring ring.

The Black Lion picked up a blunted tourney sword and gave it a few practice swings. Tyrion grinned again as Robb focused his attention on his beloved nephew.

"Bets anyone?" He called, preventing Ser Rodrick from starting the bout.

"I'll take your bet Imp!" Several voices called and Tyrion smirked.

"25 dragons on my nephew to win." He proclaimed. Theon Greyjoy laughed at that.

"50 dragons that Robb will destroy your Prince!" He roared and the Northerners yelled their agreement.

"Alright," Tyrion responded. "50 gold dragons that my nephew wins."

Theon smirked. "Get ready to lighten your coffers dwarf." He said. "Robb's the greatest swordsman in Winterfell."

Tyrion merely laughed, he was certain Arthur could trounce Robb Stark, and the bragging of a petulant squid wouldn't dissuade him from backing his own blood, especially when Prince Arthur had been training under multiple of people; he had trained with Ser Kevan Lannister, Stannis Baratheon, Ser Gwaine and Ser Jaime, along with several sparring matches with the Kingsguard.

Tyrion was confident in his nephew's swordsmanship and he nodded at Arthur when the blue-green eyes had met his own. He watched as Arthur turned to face Robb Stark.

The two stared each other down, with Robb Stark attacking first. He was quick, Tyrion could see that, but he could also see how weak the lunge was. Obviously, the Stark Heir believed Arthur to be like Joffrey in regards to the way of the sword.

Arthur merely raised his sword with the tip of the blade facing the floor, catching Robb's lunge and rolling alongside the Young Wolf's body and kicking him in the back of the leg when he had centred himself from the spin.

Tyrion chanced a glance at Theon Greyjoy who was staring at the Prince with muted respect and a short anger. Arthur merely raised his sword and beckoned Robb to him. The Heir of Winterfell growled and lunged once more. Arthur parried the blow to the floor and backhanded Robb lightly. The Young Wolf, stunned, allowed his grip to slacken on his only defence and therefore presented Arthur with a perfect opportunity to flick his blade up to the neck of Robb.

Tyrion smiled and glanced at the Greyjoy boy. "If you're expecting him to come up here with 50 dragons then you're going to be disappointed." Jon informed him. Tyrion frowned.

"I care not if I get the money Jon Snow, I was merely wishing for the baby squid to become a mighty kraken and to face me instead of skulking off." Tyrion pointed out, his mismatched eyes keenly following Theon Greyjoy's retreat.

Jon laughed. "Mayhaps he is going to get the gold for you." Tyrion hummed his agreement.

"Or he realises he did not have the quantity of the bet placed when he spoke; he was clearly expecting the Black Lion to have dismal skills with a blade which is why he placed a bet worth 50 dragons on Robb Stark. Joffrey Baratheon is not his brother and Theon Greyjoy should have realised that." Tyrion smirked.

Jon laughed and offered the Imp a skin of wine. "Here, you're going to need it more than me." He said. Tyrion graciously accepted the drink and he took a swallow.

"Come Jon Snow, you I like." The Halfman said, hopping down of the fence. "Drink with me!"

The bastard made a small noise of refusal but Tyrion squashed it down. "Come, I insist." His eyes glanced at the newly inducted spar between Robb and his nephew; it was almost as if he was instructing the Heir of Winterfell.

Jon sighed, but he was amused. "If you insist." The bastard and the dwarf strolled down the road and entered the nearest alehouse, whilst leaving behind two individuals who were hacking away at the other with blunted tourney blades.

* * *

Tyrion groaned as his eyes blearily winked open and he was hit with a sudden, lethal blast of sunlight. He groaned again but he became strikingly aware of two pairs of big, luscious tits in his face and he grinned.

Although the event of the night before were quite foggy, the dwarf could remember himself and the bastard charming themselves a few good looking wenches, drinking the house down and he even remembered Jon Snow leaving with the alehouse's owner's daughter. She was quite decent, Tyrion mused, and a maid to boot; he knew this from her blushes and from the cautious way she had escorted Jon to her chambers. He chortled.

A few hours later, a very guilty looking Snow crept back down the stairs and dragged Tyrion away from the alehouse and into the alley. He had wished to learn how to properly pleasure and treat a woman so Tyrion aided his noble endeavour by paying for two very top class whores who he presume taught Jon a fair deal.

Especially if Jon leaving him to go back to the alehouse was any indication. He groaned again, this time waking up his companions. They were all smiles and worshiped him until he had left them a few hours later.

On his way past the alehouse, he heard very loud and distinguishable moaning and other noises attributed to sex. The Halfman laughed; it seemed that Jon Snow and his lady wench were enjoying their time together.

"My dearest nephew." Tyrion called, halting Arthur and Ser Gwaine who were walking around the courtyard of Winterfell. "Will you to both honour me by breaking fast with me?"

Arthur grinned. "Rough night Uncle?" Tyrion made noise. "I'll take that as a yes."

"And I will take your joint reluctance to answer my question as a yes also." Tyrion returned easily. Ser Gwaine laughed and Arthur smiled.

"Of course Uncle."

The trio entered the Great Hall were they noticed that the Queen and Lady Stark were breaking their fast with their younger children; Tommen, Myrcella and now Arthur were breaking fast with their mother and Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon Stark with their mother.

"Mother." Arthur greeted, pressing a light kiss to Cersei's cheek. "Lady Stark, my beloved siblings." He smiled at Tommen and reached out to ruffle his hair. "My little lords and ladies." He nodded at the Stark children as Ser Gwaine and Tyrion made their own greetings.

Arthur caught the attention of a servant and, with a quick look at both Tyrion and Ser Gwaine, he requested their breakfast. "Some bread, two of those little fish, a mug of dark beer and bacon; burnt black. Three of those."

The man bowed with a quick mutter of 'your grace.' He returned quickly with the items that they had requested and the three men had dug in with vigour.

"You know I still can't believe you're going; it's ridiculous, even for you." Cersei said when a tense silence invaded the room.

Tyrion swallowed a bit of bacon and took a swallow of the beer before he answered his sister. "Where is your sense of wonder?" He demanded of her, taking another piece of bacon and taking a bite. "The greatest structure ever built, the intrepid men of the Night's Watch, the wintry abode of White Walkers." He finished playfully growling at Tommen at the end and tickling the boy.

Arthur snorted and eyed him critically. "Tell me you're not thinking about taking the black."

Tyrion nearly choked on his bacon. "And go celibate?" He scoffed in disgust. "The whores will go begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock." Catelyn Stark made a noise of revulsion as did Sansa Stark.

"No," Tyrion said. "I just want to stand on top of the Wall and piss of the edge of the world." Arthur laughed as did Ser Gwaine, along with Tommen and even Bran fought to withhold a chuckle.

"Make sure your cock doesn't catch a nip, dwarf." Ser Gwaine chortled and Queen Cersei sneered.

"Children don't need to hear such filth." She spat at them, before glancing at Myrcella and Tommen. "Come."

Lady Stark said much the same and disappeared with her children in tow. Arthur laughed and Tyrion very nearly met the Stranger when a bedraggled Jon Snow entered the room.

He quickly made room for his new friend and asked the question that had been playing on his mind.

"Did you enjoy your time with the wench Snow?" He asked and Jon Snow flinched at the voice, but he nodded all the same. Tyrion laughed and Jon winced.

"I think someone is suffering from overindulging in too much wine, eh bastard?" The answer he received caused Prince Arthur and Ser Gwaine to choke.

"Like your one to talk … dwarf."

* * *

**For those of you wondering why I haven't mentioned Sansa and Joffrey's betrothal; if you remember in the last chapter, Arthur left when Jon did so that they could spar and King Robert made the announcement when they had left.**

**Also, Bran did not get pushed off of the tower by Jaime as he didn't climb that day due to Jon helping him with his archery.**

**And I know Jon seems a bit OOC, especially when he fucked the daughter but I must remind you that he was quite drunk at that point, and he was even more so when he asked Tyrion to teach him to pleasure women. Blame the demon drink.**

**Silver Crow –** His mistress isn't Chataya's daughter, however she does play a very important role. Thank you for reviewing.

**Malyx Blackfyre – **Thanks for reviewing.

**Saint River – **Yeah, it took me quite a while to find a good age for when Renly had Gwaine so I aged him so that Gwaine wouldn't be younger than 17. I know Renly is 15 years younger than Robert and considering that Renly's 25 (I believe) in the books, it means that Robert it approximately 40. So I aged them up five years so that Gwaine could remain 17. Basically, he was born when Renly was 13-14.

Thanks for the approval; I was considering Lilya Kulik but I decided that Melanie Iglesias fitted the person I imagined Ariana to look like. I don't believe they got on in canon so I figured I'd try it. Thank you for reviewing.

**Master of Dragons God –** Thanks for reviewing. I believe Arthur will get Excalibur but not for quite some time; I still haven't decided whether or not he gets it from a Lake or a Stone.


	5. Prince Arthur I

**Cold Wind Blows**

_This is an AU of George R.R Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' universe but it will follow, in a way, the plot of the series. The story will integrate the Legend of King Arthur into the story. I do not own anything, nor do I claim to._

**Chapter 5: The Kingsroad**

**Edited: 02/02/2015**

* * *

They were riding for King's Landing that day and Arthur needed to ask a favour of Ser Gwaine and Jon Snow. His Uncle Tyrion appeared dead set on venturing further up north to visit the Wall and Arthur wished for extra protection than two measly Lannister soldiers. He knew that Tyrion Lannister was man with a sharp tongue that was more often than not released on a more able man than he – at least physically – and even more so when he had had a bit to drink.

He also knew that Gwaine was more than able to watch over his Uncle, his new squire and be able to look after himself. Arthur also believed it to be an experiment; it would bolster the bond between the two and hopefully they would become quite close friends. Then, should Jon Snow prefer life at the Wall, who was he to deny his ambitions of becoming celibate?

Nonetheless, he made it his duty to speak to Ser Gwaine about it which was why he had requested to speak to his cousin. Unfortunately for him, he had interrupted Ser Gwaine's lesson with Jon Snow and was therefore greeted by a less than happy knight.

"What could you desire now Princess?" Ser Gwaine questioned when he neared. "It's not for your already groomed hair, your clean clothes nor your sharp blade, so what is it?"

Arthur levelled the man with a look. "My Uncle Tyrion insists that he wants to visit the Wall before his death." The Prince said, his face still stoic. "I was going to request you join him and had I done so, you would have been able to decline. But I will not. So take your new squire, head north and ensure my Uncle's safety."

Ser Gwaine's jaw clenched furiously at the order. "My Prince," He began. "I thought the idea of taking Jon as my apprentice was to prevent him from going north."

Arthur observed him keenly, and he nodded. "Aye, but consider it a test. Should Jon wish to remain at the Wall, who are we to stop him? And if he chooses not to, I will need you both in King's Landing." Arthur stepped past the stiff knight and walked away.

"Do I have a choice?" Gwaine's voice asked behind him.

Arthur paused and turned around. "Mayhaps had you been calm, but you was not. They leave when we do, which is in an hour."

Ser Gwaine nodded and Arthur turned around once more, continuing on his way. He was greeted by several different people on his way back to his rooms, before he cut into an alleyway shortcut. His exit was blocked by Joffrey and his loyal dog. Unfortunately, the encounter between the two brothers was well hidden from extended ears and prying eyes, or rather, fortunately for Joffrey.

"Brother." The eldest greeted coldly. Arthur stopped before the two and gripped the familiar hilt of Roaring Fury.

"Joffrey." He returned coolly. The Crown Prince had a cruel smile on his face as he observed his brother. They stayed like that a short while, like two snarling lions defending their lands, before Joffrey spoke again.

"I'm quite disappointed Father did not betroth you to the she-wolf Stark girl, I would have loved to take her from you and break her." Joffrey licked his lips in delight as Arthur's face twisted slightly before it hardened into chipped ice at Joffrey's next comment. "No matter, I've always wondered about Dornish woman; they are said to be strong and beautiful. I would cherish my time with one, breaking her slowly." He seemed to shiver in pure glee.

Arthur glared at him. "Like you intend to with Lady Sansa?" He questioned.

Joffrey smirked. "Perhaps little brother, but she is to be my Queen." He gestured to the Hound. "The dog may even sample some _Sand_ when we return to King's Landing. Overlooking the water, there is this remarkable view…" He smirked.

'_No!' _Arthur thought furiously. _'How can he know?'_

The blood of fury sang and simmered under his skin and in his veins. Arthur unsheathed his blade, with the Hound mirroring his actions. "One more word Joffrey, I dare you." Arthur threatened. The tight alleyway would make it impossible to fight properly but it would still allow for a brief scuffle.

"Oh?" Joffrey laughed. "What will you do?"

Arthur clicked his jaw, narrowed his eyes and raised Roaring Fury. "Say it and we'll find out."

Joffrey laughed and it was different; it was cold, cruel and high and it forced the Antlered Lion's hackles to raise dangerously. "Your little whore will be mine for the taking brother." He jeered as the Hound stood in front of the Crown Prince. "I will completely destroy her and I will force you to watch. And once I've had my fill, the many guards will have theirs and then I will slit her throat while you struggle in attempt to avenge your dear, sweet Dornish whore Ariana S-"

He didn't even get to finish as Arthur's roar of fury ushered in the blade that was named for his fearsome temper into the fray, with it hacking and slashing at the Hound who defended himself well. Arthur growled and his anger fuelled his actions.

But the Hound was a fearsome opponent and Joffrey was a craven. During the short but furious fight with the Hound, Arthur witnessed Joffrey backing up the alley and disappearing. He assumed he was running away to create an alibi for his brother's murder.

Arthur blocked the Hound's vertical strike and kicked the giant of a man between the legs, eliciting a small groan of pain from the dog. Arthur attacked with newfound ferocity and the Hound struggled to defend himself from the onslaught.

And then Arthur disarmed him and he felt a blade pressed against his throat. "Lower you sword brother." Joffrey hissed into his ear and Arthur dropped his sword after a moment of deliberation.

"Good brother, very good." Joffrey whispered. "Now, before you rudely interrupted me, I was on the verge of offering you a deal." Arthur struggled silently against his elder brother's grip. "I understand you have a fondness for deals little brother and so I offer you my own."

Arthur felt himself being turned and he grunted when his back hit a wall. "You will not speak to the Starks about me, you will not speak to Ned or Sansa Stark." He sneered at his little brother who glared resentfully at him.

"And what do you offer in return?" Arthur questioned begrudgingly after a moment. The Antlered Lion refused to show the fear that was coursing through him. Not fear for himself, but for Ariana. No doubt Joffrey would recreate the cat incident with her and he couldn't allow her to go through such things.

Joffrey seemed pleased. "I will allow you and your Dornish whore to continue as you have, our Mother will not hear a word of this so long as you keep your distance from the Starks, especially Sansa."

Arthur nodded and Joffrey, foolishly, sheathed his blade. "Very good brother." He said as he turned to walk away. And that was the moment Arthur struck; he backhanded the Hound and he spun Joffrey around. The Crown Prince's shocked face was smacked with Arthur's curled fist and he spun.

Arthur scooped up Roaring Fury and his hand perched itself around Joffrey's throat and he used his superior strength to pin Joffrey to the wall while he held Roaring Fury in the direction of the Hound. "You did not give me your word brother." He offered as an explanation. "Let's make one thing clear here; you do not threaten me." He turned slightly to face the Hound. "Lower your blade. Or I'll cut his throat, I swear it." The Hound's eyes darted to Joffrey and then back to Arthur.

"You won't do it, Mother would have your head on a spike!" Joffrey choked. "And you and I both know just how much you crave her approval." Arthur squeezed on the thin, golden neck harder.

"Shut up!" He ordered, and Arthur glanced back at the Hound. "Lower your blade Clegane." But the dog did nothing; rather he remained motionless and simply observed the two feuding brothers.

Joffrey glared at him with a mixture of fear and rage in his green eyes but he did not move his lips to speak his threats. Arthur swallowed and gripped Joffrey's throat harder and the Crown Prince let out a muffled squeak. "If you give me … your word," Arthur whispered and he loosened his tight grip on his brother's neck, gifting him with enough room to speak the correct words. "Your word that no harm will befall Ariana." Blue-green eyes peered into the Eldest's green.

Joffrey's self-assured smirk returned. "I give you my word." He vowed and with one hand he beckoned the Hound. "Come dog." Arthur slackened his grip entirely and watched as the two retreated from the alleyway. He cursed to himself and ran a hand through his hair.

* * *

He pawed his way into consciousness in desperation as he dreamt of that particular encounter. Arthur panted as if he had won tourneys in a row without food and rest and his erratic breath swept his mind of coherent thoughts.

Once he was able to calm down, Arthur silently slipped out of his cot and pulled on his boots and a tunic. When he was fully dressed, the Antlered Lion buckled his sword belt onto his hip and he carefully crept out of his room in the Inn of the Kneeling Man.

As he exited the Inn not twenty minutes later with a skin of water and a skin of wine, a wedge of cheese and some bread, the Antlered Prince took note of the rising of the sun in the east. He brought the skin of water to his lips and he took himself a health swallow of the reenergizing liquid. As soon as he had had his fill of water, the Prince was accosted with intense feelings of regret and inner loathing.

After he had struck his deal with Joffrey, he had not been able to look either Ned or Sansa Stark in the eye for, and now three weeks after the deal he still could not. The only bright side of the entire ordeal is that they would soon be in King's Landing and he would be with Ariana.

Although he knew it was probably for the best to agree with Joffrey, Arthur was aware of how selfish his actions were. But, he thought to himself, either Sansa or Ariana would have been hurt. Perhaps they both would have. Joffrey does what he always has, which is what he wants.

This did not prevent his stomach from churning every time he thought of his loathsome brother and the deal. Although he wished to help poor, sweet and innocent Sansa, he couldn't as Joffrey would just hurt the girl when he wasn't looking, like had done previously to Myrcella and Tommen. He would not allow, if he could, Sansa or Ariana to get hurt by his evil older brother, but alas that was not the case and he had thought with his cock instead of his heart when he made his decision.

And yet, for all of his inner loathing and regret for not helping the Stark girl, he did not regret his decision in protecting Ariana.

Arthur chose a position to sit near an old ancient willow tree with exposed roots; and it gave him an excellent view of both sides of the Ruby ford. He sat there, nibbling on his cheese and ripping into his bread and drinking his wine. He took his first swallow when he heard the _clickt-clackt_ of wood on wood and the sound aroused his curiosity. He threw what was left of his breakfast into the Ruby ford and stood from his position from the half-unearthed tree.

He walked down the river bank and, through the trees, he could see the familiar she-wolf Arya Stark with her Direwolf Nymeria and some ginger boy. The she-wolf and the ginger boy were play fighting with swords and Arthur walked out with a slight tumble. He cursed and it paused the play fight as he came to a stop just short of them.

"Morning." He greeted, acknowledging his dishevelled state with a slight tut. Arya laughed.

"Good morning." She scowled. "Why are you here?" Her eyes pinned him in place as the Antlered Lion who stared wide eyed at her.

"Sheath your claws, less you hurt yourself little wolf." Arthur said disarmingly. Arya growled. "I was taking a walk." The she-wolf scowl became more prominent.

"Well go on and finish your walk, Mycah and I are trying to practice." She growled and pivoted on her heel. She swung at Mycah who blocked her strike.

Arthur winced every time they swung the sticks and he stopped the play fight one more time. "You're holding the damn things wrong!" He finally exclaimed, seemingly in pain from their abysmal 'sword' fighting skills.

He withdrew Roaring Fury and presented them with a proper holding technique. "Don't allow your grip to be too tight but don't have it too loose; your … sword is an extension of yourself." Arthur explained and when the two emulated his grip, he bowed and allowed them to continue on with their stick sparring.

Arthur wasn't entirely certain why he remained watching the two play fighting, but he was glad he did a good ten minutes later when a clearly intoxicated Joffrey and an dazed Sansa appeared holding a skin of wine. His consumption of wine and the fogginess caused by inebriation had long since exited his system, allowing his thoughts to roam free and his mind to become clear.

"Arya?!" The shrill voice of Sansa cut through the battle cry of Mycah as he swung at Arya, who had turned around when Sansa had called her name, therefore lowering her defence. She gave a short exclamation of surprise and pain when she was swatted with the stick. She shot Micah a quick glare and turned back to Sansa.

"Go away!" The little she-wolf ordered. "Leave Mycah and me alone."

"Brother, wait-" Arthur attempted to halt his brother as he waddled his way over to Arya. But the Crown Prince pushed passed him and Arthur felt himself on the receiving end of a dangerous look. Arthur sighed and turned around as Joffrey stopped just before Mycah.

Arthur watched as his elder brother observed the height, the weight and the build of the ginger haired boy. "He's the butcher's boy." Sansa Stark informed his brother with shaky derision. Arthur watched as Joffrey eyed Mycah with gleeful happiness.

Arya glared at Sansa and Arthur was pretty sure had the little wolf been any closer to her sister, she would have pummelled her. "He's my friend." She declared and Arthur noticed Joffrey's smirk widen.

"A butcher's boy who wants to be a knight?" Joffrey asked in rhetoric amusement. The ginger male shook slightly and Arthur just knew Joffrey was relishing in the violence he had caused. "Pick up your sword butcher's boy." Joffrey ordered as he unsheathed Lion's Tooth and Mycah shivered in fright. "We'll see how good you are."

The boy managed to find his voice. "She ast me to, my lord." He cried. "She ast me to!"

Arthur winced, Joffrey didn't appreciate – "I'm your Prince." Joffrey said slowly, his face pinched angrily. "Not your lord and I ordered you to pick up your sword."

"Brother." Arthur tried again, hoping to intervene. "Calm down." Joffrey sneered.

"I am calm brother." He refuted.

Arthur scowled. "But you're not thinking clearly; you're drunk." Arthur retorted and Joffrey laughed.

"No I am not. The butcher's boy wants to be a knight when the only time he'll wield a blade will be to cut up fish, boar and venison." Joffrey sneered as he raised his sword and deposited the tip in Mycah's cheek. "That was my Lady's sister you hit."

"Leave him alone!" Arya demanded angrily and Joffrey glanced at her. "And go away!"

"Arya stay out of this!" Sansa ordered with a stiff voice. Arya's gaze ate away at Sansa with a glare.

"Don't worry my Ladies," Joffrey smirked. "I won't hurt him … much." The tip pressed harder and a small, shallow cut shanked the freckled skin and drew a deep amount of blood. Arya yelled and used her stick to strike Joffrey with tremendous force. The Crown Prince reared in shock before he spun on her in a bloodthirsty rage.

"I'LL GUT YOU, YOU LITTLE CUNT!" He roared, slashing and hacking aimlessly as if he had not been taught how to wield a blade. But Arthur knew he had been tutored in the rudimentary skills in the way of the sword.

Arya dodged the Prince's strike and smashed her wooden stick over his head, splintering it in half. Several fragments of wood cut Joffrey's face and splinters stuck in his skin. He roared and charged again. "You filthy little bitch!" Joffrey screamed angrily.

Arthur snapped out of his shocked amusement and drew Roaring Fury as he advanced on Joffrey. When the Golden Lion swung at Arya's midsection, Arthur pushed the little she-wolf out of the way and he parried his brother's strike.

Joffrey screamed in rage and swung once again for Arya, only for Arthur to block the blow and disarm him in one fluid motion. Joffrey blinked in surprise and he fell to the floor when Arthur raised his foot to kick him in the chest. The Antlered Lion glanced at him in disgust and he turned and hurled Lion's Tooth into the Ruby ford.

"Get up!" Arthur spat, hauling Joffrey to his feet. He turned to the Stark siblings and Mycah. "Get back to the Inn." He ordered, pushing Joffrey forward and in the direction of the Inn.

Arthur's blue-green eyes took in Joffrey's appearance; he was cut, he had splinter fragments on his face and the makings of a black eye and he knew that his Mother would be out for blood.

How unfortunate for every single person who just so happened to be in their assembly. Arthur sighed, it was going to be a very long night.

* * *

**Here we go, Chapter 5, I hope you all enjoy.**

**Dmitri Darkson Makros - **Yes there will be other characters from the Arthurian legend. I won't go into too much detail on that point I would like to surprise you all. Obviously there is Ser Gwaine, but I've gave him my own unique little twist and there will be some of our favourite Arthurian characters in here too, but you'll have to be patient for their introduction.

If Lancelot was in this story, he may betray Arthur. I think I might change the name and give the roles of the character Lancelot over a character already in the 'Song of Fire and Ice' universe due to the similarities in the name Lancel Lannister and Lancelot.

**Flick – **Jon Snow will change quite a lot of things, but I am still unsure whether or not to have him on the Wall or south of it. That's why I have gave him the option above; I mean what do you guys as readers want for Jon Snow?

Thanks, and I too have noticed that. I will give you all this little tease; Ariana Sand is a real character, she is not an OC. If any of you believe you know her real identity, then comment in a review or pm me.

Both 'A Game of Vengeance and Justice' and 'A Lion with Antlers' are two very brilliantly written stories and by far my two of my favourite true born Baratheon stories.

**Guest – **Thank you for reading and your wish is my command

**Master of Dragons God – **I've decided that Arthur shall get Excalibur near the end of Season 1/Beginning of Season 2.

**pettersoderberg01 – **The name 'Roaring Fury' was my idea of being clever. The name is a mixture of the words of House Baratheon and Lannister: 'Ours if the Fury' and 'Hear me Roar' combined into 'Roaring Fury'. I don't about you but Excalibur is a much better name, don't you think?

I tried researching the age of Renly at the start of the series but I couldn't find it, and I assumed that he died at 21. But the age still doesn't work out, so I aged him up quite a bit, sorry if this is a little bit confusing I'm really tired at the minute.

**Next Chapter will be Ariana Sand's PoV**


	6. Ariana Sand I

**Cold Wind Blows**

_This is an AU of George R.R Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' universe but it will follow, in a way, the plot of the series. The story will integrate the Legend of King Arthur into the story. I do not own anything, nor do I claim to._

**Chapter 6: A Grain of Sand**

* * *

The warm breeze wafted into her home through the seaside patio and she smiled prettily as she descended into her warm bath. Although the Crownlands were beautiful, Ariana easily preferred the warm sands of Dorne. However, as beautiful as the Crownlands were, the capital stunk of raw sewage and excrements, cum and urine. Dorne didn't have these smells; they took great care in purging the filth from both themselves and their lands.

Just like Ariana was doing now; washing her body after her lover had returned from a stressful visit north. Her dark eyes flickered gently to his dozing form and she smiled a small, fond smile as she observed his gorgeous body twisted in her silk sheets and his chest heaving carefully.

When he had visited her a few hours after the Royal entourage had returned to King's Landing with Lord Eddard Stark, his two daughters and second-born son in tow, he had been a volcano of stress and anger. Ariana loved how passionately aggressive he got when got in such moods, and feeling of fulfilment when he had been inside her for the first time in nearly three months had very nearly induced an orgasm.

She smiled slightly as she washed her legs. He had need an outlet for all of the accumulative stress that had built up on the journey to Winterfell and then the return to the Capitol. Although he had been rough for the first few couplings, he had managed to regain a semblance of control enough to return the pleasure she was giving him.

She remembered how he had first spoke to her, and how he immediately did not want to fuck her like so many of the other man had in that brothel. She had been a maiden until she chose to gift him her maidenhood, after two moons of the Black Prince courting her. He had already gave her this house with a splendid view and all the money she could wish for before he had even claimed her as his own.

Ariana knew her Uncle would be most displeased and she prayed that, once he found out, he would not do anything hot-headed like come to the capitol and do something he would later regret. She wasn't here to slowly become attracted to the Prince but she knew she was no matter how much she tried to deny it. And his new facial hair had pleased her; she was unused to him with a beard as he was usually clean shaven.

She frowned as her smooth fingers rubbed her belly, smothering it with soap as her mind wandered. The last time she and Arthur had coupled, he had spilled himself in side of her. But Ariana had taken moon tea almost as soon as he had fallen asleep. Unconsciously, her thoughts turned to images of a babe with dark skin, sapphire amethyst eyes and black hair. She smiled and continued to wash herself, humming a song her Mother used to sing when she was a babe.

She wasn't aware that Arthur was now awake and observing her. She washed her legs, her feet and her toes. Her hands gracefully tickled in the rose smelling soap and she moved them up until she reached her small slit. Ariana proceeded to wash herself thoroughly and, once she was done, her hands ascended until they cupped her breasts.

Her eyes were closed as she instinctively lathered her breasts in the sweet smelling fragrance. And she gasped when calloused hands massaged her teats. Her dark purple eyes snapped open to be greeted by a highly aroused Arthur above her.

"Good morning my Prince." She whispered softly, her slightly accented voice echoing in the near silent room.

"Morning." Arthur replied softly as he claimed her lips with his own. Ariana thrust a hand into his black locks and she fisted them as their kiss became passionate and their lust heightened.

"Care to join me, Arthur?" She enticed seductively when she broke the kiss, biting down on her plump lip.

He wordlessly got in the bath behind her and she leaned forward so that he could get comfortable.

"I am shamed my Prince." Ariana started as she gave the soap to her lover. "I did not ask you of your journey to Winterfell." Arthur's small chuckle resonated throughout the room and she smiled slightly when she felt his hands slowly massage her upper back and shoulders.

"It was alright." Arthur said, but she could sense vagueness.

"Arthur?" Ariana turned to face him. "What is wrong?" He shook his head and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

"Joffrey." He said hesitantly and Ariana frowned at him, before she turned back to face the seaside patio. "He threatened you."

She froze slightly at that but Ariana forced her body to relax. Joffrey would not do anything to her, she thought, he would emulate his grandfather and send his loyal dog to do his dirty work for him.

"Hey." She felt Arthur's hand gently grip her chin and pull her to face him. Her dark purple eyes locked onto his blue-green orbs that held a certain glow and fondness for her own. "I will not allow anyone hurt you Ariana. I swear it on the old Gods and the New." He vowed and Ariana allowed a certain measure of fondness to sparkle in her iris.

Growing up, she had heard that Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister were the worst sort of evil to roam the Seven Kingdoms and that their offspring were worse. So far, the only one to completely alter her view of the two Houses was Arthur and his tales of his Uncles, his younger siblings and his bastard cousin. He had shown off a new light and side to the families she had been told were evil traitors and murderers by her Uncle Oberyn.

"Is there anything else?" She queried softly and Arthur gazed at her wonderingly.

"Trouble on the road with the Starks and their Direwolves. Father had them returned back to Winterfell, but you can imagine the tension between us all."

"Joffrey again?" Ariana asked him. Arthur nodded.

"Aye." He replied. "But let us not speak of such things."

Ariana made to reply but Arthur kissed her abruptly, preventing her from speaking. She returned the kiss with desire and she felt his cock harden on her stomach. He groaned when she bit his lip gently and he gave a short jump when she grabbed a hold of his thick shaft with her dainty hands. She smiled teasingly as she pumped her lover who quickly became a slave to her ministrations.

He groaned and Ariana relished in his temporary submission. She smirked and glanced down as the water sloshed over the edge of the bath from the speed of her hand. Ariana then gave a squeal of surprise as Arthur stood and easily lifted her while doing so, and she shivered when his member gently caressed her lips. Her dark purple gaze locked onto his own as he kissed her. She moaned quietly and he gently lay her on the bed.

Ariana sighed in pleasure when his lips lathered her body with small nips and kisses as he trailed down, and she laughed a tinkling laugh when his tongue tickled her hard nipples. But when his head nestled softly between her thighs with his beard scratching her quivering legs lightly as his tongue and mouth devoured her sweet tasting sun; Ariana could not contain the moan of pleasure when he pleasured her with his tongue and fingers.

She thrust her hands into the thick mane of the Black Lion as she reached her peak. Arthur's laugh sounded and she desperately dragged him up to eye level, receiving little to no resistance from her lover.

"Please Arthur," Ariana begged lustily. Ariana's back arched and she moaned in contented pleasure when his great sword was sheathed inside her, filling her little sun up completely. Arthur sighed and Ariana giggled as she tightened her muscles around his pulsing member, an action that caused him to groan slightly.

She felt him slowly move backwards, and then he thrust back into her. Arthur repeated the motion again and again, slowly picking up speed. _Gods,_ Ariana thought as she moaned, _He is so deep._

Ariana heard his grunt and she swallowed a pleasurable moan as she felt him delve further into the depths of her small sun. "Let me ride you." She gasped as he thrust harder. Arthur then gave a small growl and slowly eased out of her.

Ariana moaned and stood on the bed, waiting for him to lay down in a position for her to ride him. She squatted down and eased his member back inside of her, allowing him to be sheathed till the hilt.

She slowly set a pace and sped up with each bounce she made upon his cock. She rode him hard and she felt him pull out, and then Ariana felt the warm globs of cum on her stomach, her vagina lips and her thighs.

She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. Ariana giggled slightly when he picked her up and sat the both of them down in the significantly colder, but still quite warm, bath.

* * *

A few hours after Arthur had left, 'For Council business,' he had said, and Ariana had finally cleaned herself up and, discretely, headed to Chataya's brothel. The Dornish woman located Chataya through the smoke and the smell of sex, ale and piss.

"My dear Ariana." She smiled when she looked at her.

"'Taya." She returned and gave the elder woman a brief hug.

"Come child." Chataya said as she glided through the brothel, heading up the stairs and into a cupboard. Ariana followed and she observed as Chataya pushed open a panel and the fake back board slid out of view and her eyes rested on a fat, bald eunuch dressed in chain mail, boiled leather and a castle-forged sword at his hip.

"Thank you, my dear." The soft voice of the spider crooned to Chataya in dismissal and the elder woman left the hidden room and sealed it closed behind her.

"Lord Varys." Ariana deemed the man half a smile and indicated the tunnel. "My house is just a short time away." The plump man nodded and the duo walked down the tunnel at a timid pace. "What news?"

"My Princess," Varys started but Ariana cut him off.

"Not anymore." Varys frowned at her but continued his sentence.

"King Robert has issued a tournament for Prince Arthur's name day and Lord Stark's appointment as Hand of the King, as they … coincide." He informed her. "There will be an Archery competition, a Joust, and a Melee."

Ariana nodded, almost in sad regret. "And, no doubt, Arthur will participate in all three?" Varys gave her a queer look.

"No my Princess, rather, he wishes to partake in the Melee and the Joust."

Ariana mulled over the thought. "Is my … friend … participating also?" She asked and Varys nodded his head.

"It's almost a pity to see such a great child go." He said with a small intangible smile. "He would be a much better ruler than his Father and his brother, no doubt." His eyes devoured her face for a moment as she allowed his information to sink in. Ariana refused to allow her emotions to rule her; she came here to complete an assignment and now it was nearly over. She had to see it through.

"King Robert has also expressed desire to fight in the Melee." Varys said, seemingly pleased by her inner turmoil. "But Arthur somehow talked him out of it and the King has ordered the Melee to be fought using live steel."

She nodded. "That will make things a lot easier for Gerold." Varys shrugged silently, a knowing quirk adorning his lips.

"Prince Arthur is a fierce combatant, and he was born to wield weapons," Varys smiled slightly. "Be it a sword, his own fists or a Warhammer like his father. He was born and raised to be a warrior."

Ariana locked eyes with the Spider. "But his temper is his downfall." She reminded him.

"Quite. Especially if he was aware of your true name Princess." Varys said back. "If word got back to the Antlered Lion, imagine his reaction; heartbreak, anger, grief."

"No one but you or I know of my true name my Lord." She replied easily. "It would be preferable to remain that way."

"Of course." Varys agreed with a smile. "He would no doubt cause the realm to bleed if he were to find out he was lied to by the one person, bar his family, he cherishes the most."

With that the Eunuch turned and slipped away quietly, leaving behind a stunned and emotional wreck of a young woman behind.

* * *

**Okay, so I know it's not up to my usual standard but I will be the first to admit that this chapter was the first time I had ever wrote in a woman's PoV. It is also quite short. Apologies.**

**Ariana is a Princess ;) and she is plotting against Arthur while she is developing feelings for him. Next Chapter is Ned's PoV and it will most probably be up within the next week.**

**Joe63129 &amp; Naruhina1519 – **Her true identity will be revealed soon….

**DEATHLIGHTMK2 – **The plan was to make Jon and Lancelot two sides of the same coin.

**Flick – **Yeah, Joff has an intelligent grandfather, uncle and mother. Cersei practically raised him up all alone, and to me, I thought it strange that some of her intelligence didn't partially rub off on him. The descent to madness offers a lack of smarts .

Another good guess. Obviously, Ariana has Martell blood and was raised in Dorne, so maybe….

**Saint River – **Joffrey is a lot smarter and, the next 'Arthur' chapter will reveal how he discovered Ariana.

**LadyKatherine29 – **Thank you for the review and compliment, it means a lot. I made Joffrey more observant and slightly more intelligent, but rest assured he is still an insane, bloodthirsty braggart and quite shrill when he sits upon the Throne. Yeah, no Direwolf deaths so far, I felt awful when I saw it in the TV show and read it in the books. As for the marriage pact, it will be explained next chapter.

As for the fight scene, it is unrealistic, but he was fighting in tight space and was combatting in close quarters. Arthur had a shorter sword than the Hound's great sword and was therefore more manoeuvrable than Clegane. Arthur knows his brother is a sick little cunt, but he is still his brother and he could not become Kinslayer. The Hound was doing his duty as a sworn shield and Arthur couldn't kill him for nothing. He regrets it later though….

Maybe Jaime will hit his son. That's a pretty good inspirational image right there. But Jaime is biased; Joffrey was his son, true, but he didn't acknowledge that. He only cared for Cersei. Jaime is next to nothing without his sword hand so the fact that he would rather have a dead son and be whole, than have a mad son alive in a position of power and handless isn't too radical.

**Stef15 – **Thank you! Xx

**Okiro Benihime – **I am going at a slow pace, they have just returned to King's Landing. The War, I speculate, will not occur until a good 10-15 chapters later (due to all the other character PoV's with Tyrion, Jon and Gwaine up at the Wall). I have a route in plan for Arthur and so far it is going good.

However, I am now up to the point where I am at a crossroads with two signs; one says 'Red Wedding!' and the other says 'No Red Wedding!' Once I have reached a decision on that, then I will proceed about plotting down the rest of the War and what happens afterward.


	7. Ned Stark I

**Cold Wind Blows**

_This is an AU of George R.R Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' universe but it will follow, in a way, the plot of the series. The story will integrate the Legend of King Arthur into the story. I do not own anything, nor do I claim to._

**Chapter 7: Southron Wolves**

**Edited: 21/03/2015**

* * *

This was his first time down South in over nine years and he knew he hadn't grew any fonder of it. Out of his children, only Arya agreed. Mayhaps due to the fact that in Winterfell, the little She-Wolf could play and act as a boy. Sansa and Bran were overjoyed to be in the capital. Arya had been restless and Ned knew he needed to have a discussion with her at some point in time. Ned had spoken to Barristan the Bold about a Knight that Bran could squire for when the unlikely man had said that he would.

"It will be a trial run though Lord Stark." He had told him. "To see if your son has what it takes to be my squire and later replace me on the Kingsguard, should he still desire to, but only after I have seen his skills for myself."

Ned had agreed. "I will speak to the King to request single combat between squires." The Hand had promised the Knight of the Kingsguard. "That way it would be easier to observe his combat skills." Ser Barristan had nodded. However, Ned could not help but wonder if Prince Arthur had told the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard of Bran's wishes to become a member of the Kingsguard.

Prince Arthur

He couldn't thank Prince Arthur enough for what he did for his family. He had allowed Jon freedom in the form of a Knighthood, something he himself hadn't thought of for the boy. He had protected his two daughter's from his drunk older brother and he had helped Ned out of a Council meeting the day previous.

Which was where he was now. "Apologies for yesterday, my Lords." Ned said as he entered the Small Council chamber.

Renly laughed. "I told them Arthur wouldn't appreciate being roped into one of these meetings on such short notice after a long and weary journey." He said, his words allowing the Warden of the North's apologies sail away.

"Prince Arthur is being seated on the Small Council?" Came the question from the Grand Maester.

Renly nodded. "After Stannis' departure; he requested that Arthur take over his duties as a life lesson." He explained as he sat. Eddard took the seat of the Hand and patiently awaited the arrival of Prince Arthur.

The Prince praised them with his presence a short twenty minutes later, looking bedraggled and half clean when he entered the chamber with a quick walk. "Prince Arthur." Lord Varys simpered standing and taking the hand of the boy who quickly smiled at the Eunuch.

"My Lord." He returned easily. "Apologies for yesterday, I was tired from the road and unaware of my duties until sometime after the meeting."

Varys never answered, he smiled and released the Prince's hand. "Uncle Renly." Arthur greeted warmly as said man stood and hugged his nephew.

"How's Gwaine?" Renly asked curiously as he ended the hug abruptly.

"Up at the Wall with Jon, Lord Starks son, who just so happens to be his new squire." Arthur said as he turned to nod to Ned. "Lord Stark, Lord Baelish, Grand Maester. Apologies for my lateness; I was … held up."

Ned inclined his head and they took their seats. Renly handed Ned a roll of parchment. "Robert's orders, once again."

Ned sighed and took the parchment roll silently as Arthur repeated the same words he had uttered the previous day.

"You're starting without my Father?" Arthur questioned with a glance at Renly who shook his head.

"He allows us to look after some small matters for him." Renly replied shortly and Ned hid a serene smile when he observed Arthur glance at him in slight befuddlement.

"It seems that we are here to lighten the load for King Robert." Eddard told his best friends second son, who seemed displeased.

"The King," Ned said when he opened the letter, his eyes still on the rest of the Lords in the chamber, for he knew what was inscribed on the parchment. "Has instructed a tournament for my appointment as Hand of the King and for your name day Prince Arthur."

"But my name day isn't for a week." He said, confusedly.

"It is scheduled to last two weeks." Eddard elaborated. Arthur nodded and kept silent.

"Hmm." Littlefinger smirked. "That will cost a pretty penny. How much for the winners?" He directed the question at Ned, just like he had the day before.

"40,000 to the winner, 20,000 to the runner up." Eddard said. "20,000 to the winning archer and another 20,000 to the winner of the melee."

Arthur seemed surprised by the amount. "Can the treasury handle this amount?" He asked Baelish who smiled wanly.

"No, I'll have to borrow it," He replied. "I'm certain your grandfather will accommodate. We already owe him three million dragons; what's another 100,000?" He asked rhetorically.

Ned looked at him sharply; he hadn't said anything like this the day previous. "You're telling me that the Crown is three million in debt?"

Littlefinger laughed. "Gods no, I'm telling you the Crown is six million in debt. The Crown owes another three million to the Arryn's, the Tyrell's and the Iron Bank of Braavos."

"How could we have no gold left over?" Arthur demanded suddenly. "From my lessons with the Grand Maester," Arthur nodded at Pycelle. "I know that Aerys Targaryen left the coffers overflowing with gold."

Ned glanced at the Grand Maester at that, but he too gave his attention to Lord Baelish. "The Master of Coin finds the gold, my Prince." He said. "The King – and the Hand – spend it."

Eddard scoffed disbelievingly. "I will not believe Jon Arryn allowed Robert to bankrupt the realm." He said to Baelish, in an almost challenging manner.

"No my Lord Stark." Wheezed the old Grand Maester. "Lord Arryn gave wise and prudent advice. But the King usually gains what he wishes." The old man said in a placating wheeze.

Ned glanced at Renly when his voice sounded. "'Counting coppers' he calls it."

As much as he was wishing to refuse and abolish the damn thing, the tournament wasn't just for him. "This tournament." He said instead, pausing to glance at Arthur. "Is too much of an extravagance."

"I agree." The Prince said. He turned to Baelish. "We'll get rid of the 20,000 to the winner of the melee, whoever wins the melee will have to fight the winner of the joust in single combat; whoever wins that gains 30,000. The loser gains 15,000. That's the winner and the runner up shortened down to a respectable … 45,000. Another 15,000 to the winning archer places the total up to 60,000."

Ned nodded. "Very well. The costs of the tournament? Food, drink, housing; they have to be considered."

"The total," Lord Baelish started. "Would be around 75,000 gold dragons."

Arthur stared at him. "We can dwindle that down some; at tourneys, your whores are walking bowlegged through the streets, your houses full of moaning and stinking of cum and sweat." He said. "You will use their money to start paying of the debt to the Iron Bank."

"I will?" Baelish questioned and Ned mustered a glare, agreeing with the Prince.

"Aye, you will." Ned said. Lord Baelish stared at him with some surprise.

"Very well."

Arthur stood. "If that is all my Lords." He said as he turned and exited the chamber. Lord Renly, Littlefinger and Lord Varys soon followed him and Ned turned to Pycelle.

"Grand Maester," Ned said when the room was empty but for the two of them. "I've been meaning to talk to you of Jon Arryn."

"Lord Arryn?" The old man said, taken aback. Ned's grey eyes bored into the drooping skin of the very old man. "Oh … his death was a great sadness to all of us. I-I took personal charge of his care, but I could not save him, my Lord."

The Quiet Wolf kept silent, his face hard as stone and he waited for the old man to give him more information. "The sickness that took him," Pycelle wheezed. "Struck him very fast and very strong."

"I saw him in my chambers the night before he passed." He revealed and Ned became suspicious.

"Why?" He asked the old Maester.

"Lord Jon often came to me for council."

"Did he? Why?" Ned asked again, and the old man grew agitated; he drew himself up slightly and he looked like an angry kitten.

"I have been Grand Maester of the Citadel for many years." He whispered angrily. "Kings and Hands have come to me, seeking advice since-"

"What did he wish to discuss the night before he died?" Ned cut him off.

Pycelle shivered slightly. "He inquired about a book." He said, almost reluctantly.

Ned's interest was piqued. "A book? What book?"

"My Lord, the book would be of little interest to you … a very ponderous tome." Pycelle said in the same reluctant way. His voice was weak and nervous.

Ned gave the man a slight glare. "I would like to read it." The man shuffled.

"Very well my Lord." He said as he slowly walked away, with Ned trailing behind him.

* * *

How right the old man was, 'a very ponderous read' indeed. _The Lineage and Histories of the Seven Kingdoms_ was a very detailed book which gave insight to the many high lords and ladies, and their children; including their very description, their birthdate, titles and their death date.

'The Seed is Strong.' The phrase Jon Arryn had died repeating, calling Robert's name as he did so. The Seed, which seed? Robert's seed? His children? So many questions with little to no answers.

The book was offering him no branch of knowledge. The words were a befuddlement and he was on the verge of annoyance with it. "Lord Stark." Jory said, opening up the door to his chambers with Prince Arthur behind him. "Prince Arthur."

The Prince nodded to Jory and entered the room. "Lord Stark." The Prince greeted. "You wished to speak to me?"

Ned nodded. "Yes Prince Arthur." He said. "I wanted to talk to you about Jon Arryn."

"Uncle Jon?" Ned felt a surge of surprise at the name of endearment. "What about?"

"His final hours, what he did, how he acted." Ned replied.

Arthur took a moment to consider an answer. "We were unaware of his sudden sickness, my Father and I; we were out hunting. When we returned to the castle, he had more or less an hour left to live."

Blue-green eyes regarded the grey ones of the Quiet Wolf. "He acted as if he could not see us. He kept calling for my Father, and he kept repeating that the Seed was Strong."

Ned nodded at that. "Grand Maester told me the same thing." He admitted.

Arthur smiled. "Apologies that I could not be of any help my Lord. Goodnight." He said as he rose with a nod and exited the Tower of the Hand.

Ned frowned when the door closed, his eyes once more clawing through the book. Robert's seed. He glanced at the book and he carefully flipped until he reached House Baratheon.

_Davos Baratheon, the First of His Name. Firstborn Son of Lord Orys Baratheon and Lady Agalia Baratheon. Black of Hair, Blue of Eye._

And he flipped three two pages until there, at the very bottom, was Robert's name.

_Robert Baratheon, the First of His Name. Firstborn son of Lord Steffon Baratheon and Lady Cassana Baratheon. Black of Hair, Blue of Eye._

_Joffrey Baratheon, the First of His Name. Firstborn son of King Robert Baratheon and Queen Cersei Baratheon. Blond of Hair, Green of Eye._

_Arthur Baratheon, the First of His Name. Second born son of King Robert Baratheon and Queen Cersei Baratheon. Black of Hair, Blue-Green of Eye. _

Ned felt his eyes tiredly close with a sigh of frustration. 'The Seed is Strong'.

He closed the heavy book and leant back, rubbing at his tired eyes as his mind drifted to Jon, up at the Wall with his brother, the Imp and Renly's bastard son. Winter is Coming.

* * *

**I just figured, I'd give you this, next chapter will be Jon Snow's PoV.**

**Master of Dragons God – **Thank you!

**Saint River – **Take a guess ahaha! I'm hoping the events of the original plot a lot. She is there to do a 'mission' but she's developing an emotional attachment to Arthur, so her goals are become harder to achieve.

**MechaJesus2 &amp; TheLlama123 – **You'll have to wait a few chapters before all is revealed. To Arthur anyway.

**The Dark Lord Potter – **Yes! The King in the North!


	8. Jon Snow II

**Cold Wind Blows**

_This is an AU of George R.R Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' universe but it will follow, in a way, the plot of the series. The story will integrate the Legend of King Arthur into the story. I do not own anything, nor do I claim to._

**Chapter 8: A Bastard's Life for me … As a Knight?**

* * *

The constant iciness of the wind regularly drew him short of breath whenever he sat upon the Wall with his Uncle Benjen, who sometimes told him the follies of his Uncle Brandon or the wildness of his Aunt Lyanna. From the tales, Jon could determine two things; his youngest and favourite sister was Lyanna reborn in many ways, but her temper was all from Brandon the Wild Wolf and during these discussions, Benjen grew bluer when the words trespassed his lips. Jon shivered again.

Benjen had stormed off in a huff when Jon questioned him more and more about the notorious Harrenhal Tourney, one year prior to the inception of Robert's Rebellion, which Jon also asked about. His Uncle was stiff in his answering, but he still answered; that is until the topic of his mother was questioned. The elder man grew angry and his words cut deeper than the sharp, cold blasts of air.

Jon flinched at the frostiness but he refused to move from his position by the – now – dwindling fire.

"You know I was much like you when I was younger; about fourteen." His mentor's voice said from a nearby position. "Whenever I was feeling sad, or angry, or frightened; I would hide myself away to hide what I was feeling." Jon didn't reply to Gwaine and the man sighed.

"You're going to freeze, come on down into the warmth."

Jon shook his head. Although he ate with Lord Tyrion and Ser Gwaine, he was treated like a spot of shit by the rest of the Black Brothers. Especially the recruits, due to an altercation between Ser Gwaine and Ser Alliser, which resulted in Jon sparring with all of the new recruits who he defeated with ease and who he humiliated by doing so.

Jon knew he wasn't scared as he could defend himself well, but that did not mean that the hatred wasn't noticeable to him. He had been subject to the Lady Catelyn's cool contempt for all of his life, so the stares full of disgust didn't hurt his feelings but it still made him uncomfortable.

Gwaine however seemingly refused to acknowledge his refusal and he hauled him to his feet. Jon growled quietly, "Let go of me!"

Ser Gwaine glared at him. "Stop acting a bloody child and do as I say, _squire_." Jon returned the glare with a fierce intensity. "Go and sup with Lord Tyrion and in the warmth."

Jon glared at him with heavy reluctance in his cool grey eyes. "_Now!" _Ser Gwaine ordered and Jon slowly, annoyingly, walked over to the elevation system that allowed the Black Brothers to get up and man the Wall. He entered and the call for the lowering of the lift was activated by the man operating the turn wheel in Castle Black, at the base of the Wall.

Jon rubbed his arms and armpits to drive away the cold as he descended from the top of the Wall to the bottom. The gate creaked when he opened it, and he winced at the whistling noise.

Jon stalked through the yard and in the direction of the dining chambers, bracing himself and forcing himself to adopt an ice cold personality for a moment. When he entered, his eyes swivelled toward Lord Tyrion and his feet lead the way to the Halfman.

"Lord Snow." The Imp greeted merrily. Jon glanced at the jug of wine near the dwarf and he glanced down next to him. "Jon I must apologise." The Imp slurred and he gave a slight hiccup as he reached for more wine. "Thorne and myself had a bet and unfortunately it involved you fighting with all of the recruits that you beat bloody the other after-" Tyrion hiccupped loudly, and he turned around, seemingly ignorant of the fierce glare Jon was giving him.

* * *

Jon stared down at the five people stood in a circle around him and he once more cursed the name Tyrion Lannister. The dwarf had arranged a sparring competition between the five people he humiliated and himself. Jon could honestly admit that he was unsure if he could win this one.

His grey eyes narrowed and darted from one man to the other and he recognised them almost immediately. The man that Thorne called Auroch was glaring at him with contempt and his eyes riveted around to the man next to him. The small man with large ears, Pyp, who Thorne had called Monkey and Jon couldn't believe that no one had struck the man. The angry knight had christened him Lord Snow in an attempt to be hurtful. It wasn't really hurtful, and Jon knew that Lady Catelyn had gave him worse.

Next to him was Rast, the rapist, and Jon was personally going to hurt him from the story he had heard of the man raping a young girl his little sister Arya's age. Behind him, Jon knew, was Toad and Stoney, who would not attack unless the Auroch or the Rapist or the Monkey did first.

It was the Rapist who sprung forward first and Jon clanked the blunted blades together in a block motion whilst kicking the rapist quite low down in the general area of his cock. He assumed that he struck true when the man howled a shout of pain and collapsed to the floor.

Jon turned around just in time to counter a strike from Stoney; and Jon ruthlessly brought the bunted blade down and with a sharp thrust, he stabbed Stoney with a strong jab into the chest, the blow bringing the youth to the ground, winded.

Toady and Pyp came at him and Jon attacked Toady first; the man always had shaky hands and Jon just needed to disarm him. But he didn't anticipate Pyp's fast strike around the back of his head which sprung tears of pain into his eyes, which froze immediately when a sudden flash of anger surged through him and he disarmed Toady with a hard strike to the wrist that cracked under the sudden pressure.

Jon turned to face Pyp, who suddenly gained the aid of Grenn and Stoney, who was back on his feet, and Jon once more dealt with the huge bulking sixteen year-old, sending him back to the floor, winded.

He faced Grenn and Pyp once more and he waited, his eyes working furiously to analyse the two; Grenn was the muscle, the hard hitter and Pyp was the speed, the annoyance. He would need to take out Pyp first, but he also risked losing to Grenn.

It appears as if they made a choice for him as they both stormed him roaring. Jon held his ground and blocked the Aurochs clumsy lunge by moving his hand up and slamming his pommel up into his nose and breaking it. Grenn fell to the floor with a dull thud as he held his nose, and he didn't look like he would enter the fray once again.

Jon and Pyp faced each other, but Jon simply stayed on the defensive, preferring to tire out the fleet-footed thief instead of himself. Pyp danced around him, attempting to gain an edge but Jon was unyielding and he waited and waited for the perfect moment to strike.

Pyp simply kept dancing around him, his strikes were hitting Jon and they were like an annoyance you had to endure to get rid of. It was when Pyp was dancing around him that Jon lunged, a moment when Pyp slipped in the mud and struggled to regain his balance. A solid blow to the stomach knocked the small man to the floor where he wheezed for a moment and then Jon looked up to see a very angry Thorne and an amused looking Tyrion standing beside Ser Gwaine, a man with no emotion on his face.

_He is disappointed in me._ Jon realised slowly, and he turned and stormed away from the sparring area and into the armoury without a word.

However, the bastard wolf of Winterfell was unaware of Grenn, Pyp and Rast following him, with obvious bad intentions. Jon did hear them though, when he placed his blunted blade on the rack.

"You broke my nose bastard!" He heard the Auroch snarl. Jon slowly turned and his eyes roved the face of Grenn.

"It's an improvement." Jon offered after a moment; his jest resulting in the Rapist holding his arms behind his back, Pyp grabbing his jaw and Grenn holding a knife to his throat.

Grenn breathed heavily in the face of Jon. "If we threw you off of the Wall," He said. "I wonder how long it would take you to hit."

Pyp sneered in agreement. "Wonder if they'd find ya before the wolves did?" He asked in rhetoric dark amusement.

The door jostled as Rast opened his mouth to say something. Four pairs of eyes glanced at the doorway, which revealed the presence of Ser Gwaine and Lord Tyrion.

"What're you lookin' at Halfman?" Questioned the Rapist.

Ser Gwaine growled at that and Jon observed a hand rest upon the pommel of his sword. "He's looking at the three of you." Ser Gwaine said to them tight lipped. The three boys shifted with slight unease.

Tyrion smiled frighteningly, for little children. "You've got an interesting face. Very distinctive faces." He said. "All of you." He added.

The three glanced at each other, with the Rapist taking the lead this time.

"What do you care about our faces?" He demanded, spittle flying from his mouth.

Tyrion smiled at that. "I'm sure my companion would agree," Tyrion started with a statement, to which Ser Gwaine nodded. "It's just I think they would look marvellous decorating spikes in King's Landing." He informed them smilingly. "Perhaps I shall write to my sister, the Queen about it."

Ser Gwaine searched the eyes of them all, and his eyes found Jon and Jon felt himself being pinned to the wall by the look in his eye. "Or failing that, my cousin, Prince Arthur."

Rast removed his hold at the same time Pyp did, and he left the armoury. Pyp and Grenn went off to the side to remove their sparring gear, with the Auroch offering Jon a slight threat.

"We'll talk later Lord Snow." He vowed. Jon sank back on the sword rack and he breathed.

"Everybody knew what this place was." Jon whispered, his eyes on the two in front of him. "No one told me a sliver of truth but you two and Prince Arthur. Nobody."

He paused momentarily. "If you and Arthur had not come along, I would have been abandoned by my Father to rot up here, at the Wall."

Ser Gwaine nodded at that, but his next words gave Jon a severe reality check.

"Grenn's Father left him too…just outside a farmhouse when he was three years-old." He informed Jon, who looked up and met the surprised eyes of Grenn, who looked down almost immediately. "And Pypar; he was caught stealing a wheel of cheese for his little sister. She hadn't eaten in three days and he was given a choice: his right hand or the Wall."

Jon felt his cheeks heat up slightly but he stubbornly squashed it down. "I've been asking the Old Bear about them. Very fascinating stories, wouldn't you say Lord Tyrion?"

"Oh yes." The dwarf said.

Jon stupidly blurted out the sentence he had been dying to get out; "They all hate me because I'm better than they are!"

Tyrion scoffed. "It is a lucky thing that none of them were trained by a renowned Master-of-Arms like your Ser Rodrik." He said and Jon looked down in shame.

They were both right, and he knew he was strikingly lucky. He was a bastard that was raised on his Father's estate, by his Father with his trueborn children. He was given the same education as his Father's heir and he was granted liberties that other bastards didn't have, except perhaps Ser Gwaine.

"And I don't imagine that they ever held a real sword before they came here either." Tyrion remarked, his words like lacerations.

Jon glanced at him and Ser Gwaine grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the side. "When we leave, you will apologise to those two boys and-"

"And I will offer them my aid, to get them better at fighting." Jon promised, cutting of the bastard Knight, who nodded approvingly.

"Good."

And Jon did exactly that and more. When he looked back a week later upon the Wall where he was accompanying Grenn and Pyp during their watch, he remarked on the absurdity of it all.

"It's ironic that a week ago we were more or less enemies, now we are friends." Jon said and Grenn laughed with Pyp.

"A week ago I didn't know how to hold a damn sword properly, now I do." The Auroch had said in response and Pyp had laughed.

"A week ago, I had no strength, and now I do." He said.

Grenn laughed. "No you don't; you haven't a pick on ya!" He said as Pyp glared at him.

"Stupid!" He spat in return and Jon chuckled at their banter, his eyes turning to observe the snowy landscape of the Land of Always Winter.

* * *

**Hello everyone! Apologies for the long wait! I've been very busy with school stuff and projects for my subjects which is the reason why I have not updated in a while (obviously).**

**So anyway, thank you for the updates and I hope you enjoy the next chapter which will be in the PoV of Arthur.**

**Master of Dragons God – **Thank you! I'm glad you think so.

**Saint River – **I know, he did it like the day after he arrived in King's Landing and he is asking questions a lot earlier than in canon too.

I can see you did ;)

**Carlthompson – **Your wait has been rewarded!

**DraekonGreycloak – **I'm loving these guesses! It could be, or it could be Arianne simply saying that while she is under cover as 'Ariana' she is no longer a princess? One might now within the next few chapters.

**Silver Crow – **Arthur's got quite the temper. But, unlike his Father, he would never hit a female. And he has morals. His reaction would be realistic…

**GuardiansOfTheUniverse – **Thank you so much! I'm overjoyed that you think so.

**Flick – **Ariana is being quite naughty isn't she? Mayhaps she's attempting to settle the score between the Dornish and the Westerlanders.

She is very much alive ;)

**Guest – **Do you think so? I thought it implied either Rhaenys Targaryen or Arianne Martell myself. Arianne and Rhaenys both share a mutual Uncle between them, and they are both Princesses.

**Stef15 – **Thank you! And Ariana's intentions will be explained in her next chapter. Hopefully this time her chapter will be better than her last.


	9. Arthur Interlude

**Cold Wind Blows**

_This is an AU of George R.R Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' universe but it will follow, in a way, the plot of the series. The story will integrate the Legend of King Arthur into the story. I do not own anything, nor do I claim to._

**Chapter 9: Arthur Baratheon Interlude**

**Edited: 05/04/2015**

* * *

Arthur was overjoyed, for today was his seventh Nameday and his Father had promised to allow him to sit on the Iron Throne as an early Nameday gift just as he had Joffrey the year previous. He truly could not wait.

Rising from his bed quickly, the young buck picked out the clothes his Mother had said he had to wear for this day; new black leather boots, black leggings, a red and gold tunic with stitches of stags and lions engraved on it and a small cape with the Baratheon sigil and words upon it. However, he called for a bath, which the servants were happy to comply with.

The water was warm and Arthur washed himself thoroughly, using the sweet smelling soap his Uncle Jaime had given him with a wink two days past. It was a lovely smell: the rich aroma of hyacinth and iris garnered an eyebrow to his Uncle from the little Prince but he had kept it anyway. Arthur believed it smelled…_girly_.

Like some soap that perhaps his Mother would use, even though Ser Jaime had been quick to reassure him he used it all the time to. Nonetheless, Arthur cleaned himself with the sweet smelling fragrance and, when he was done, he got dressed in his clothes.

He was very nearly to the Throne Room when his Father's Kingsguard Ser Barristan the Bold accosted him. "There you are Little Prince." The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard said, stopping Arthur from running into the Throne Room.

"Where's my Father?" Arthur asked exuberantly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Ser Barristan chuckled at the boy's excitement but he was serious whilst sad when he answered the question.

"Your Father is…preoccupied at the moment, but he will be down shortly. If you wish, I shall accompany you to the Throne room but you are not allowed to sit upon it until King Robert arrives." Ser Barristan said and Arthur nodded.

"How goes your lessons my Prince?" Barristan asked and Arthur glanced up at him.

Arthur shrugged. "They are well, but I cannot wait until I can start to learn how to fight with a tourney sword!" Arthur wished to be the greatest Knight to grace the lands of Westeros, and he desired to be even greater than the legendary Ser Arthur Dayne, The Sword of Morning.

"You will need to work at it, every single day." Ser Barristan said and Arthur nodded, falling silent.

A sudden thought struck Arthur. "Ser Barristan," The seven year-old said. "Could you teach me?" The Prince asked, his eyes peering up at him wondrously.

But no reply made Arthur look down, crestfallen. He sighed and moved away from the old man and sat down upon the steps leading up to the Iron Throne.

Ser Barristan watched silently, and he sighed warily, running a hand through his white hair. Arthur stubbornly refused to look at him.

"Prince's don't throw tantrums." Ser Barristan said after a moment of silence. Arthur turned to him with a frown. "Especially when they do not get their own way. I'm an old man now Arthur, why not ask your Uncle Jaime to help you?" Arthur shrugged and turned, impatiently, toward the door.

The Princeling heard Ser Barristan sigh once more and then there was silence in the room. Until the doors banged open and Robert Baratheon strolled in. The man was much the same man as when he won the Iron Throne, but with an increasing waistline which had increased demurely after the failure of the Greyjoy Rebellion.

"There you are boy!" The King laughed loudly, stalking over to his second born with large steps. Arthur shot off of the steps and ran up to the King. "I've been looking for you all morning." The King said and Arthur laughed.

"You promised me Father, you promised that I would be allowed to sit on the Throne," Arthur's eyes reached King Robert's gaze. "On my Nameday."

Robert laughed loudly. "I did, did I?" He asked and Arthur nodded excitedly. "Alright, get on with ya!" He boomed.

Arthur turned and ran up the steps to the Iron Throne but he didn't seat himself upon it. He simply stopped and observed it. Robert's steps echoed loudly as he walked toward Arthur with brisk steps.

"Go on then boy, you wanted to sit it, so sit it." The King said and Arthur glanced up at him. Robert nodded his head at the chair and Arthur slowly sat down on the Throne momentarily and his eyes rested upon the Throne room doors.

Arthur shifted slightly to find a slightly more comfortable position when he felt a dull thud of a heavy object wrap around his head. He looked up at Robert who was now crownless and his hand reached up to grasp the crown.

"You'd sit the Iron Throne well Arthur." Robert told him, eyes strengthening under pride. But then Arthur removed the crown and stood.

"I wouldn't." He said and Robert frowned at him. "That's not me." His eyes were locked in a contest with Robert Baratheon's deep blue. "I would rather let Joffrey get his arse cut to shreds."

Robert was silent and then he laughed at his son's response. "Come on my boy, time to break our fast. Your Mother and brother and sister are waiting in the Great Hall."

And together, Father and Son with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard traversed the path from the Throne room to the Great Hall.

* * *

Arthur had broken his fast with his Father and Mother, his brother – surprisingly wasn't there – and sister (who was) and his baby brother Tommen, his Lannister Uncle's and his Baratheon Uncle's and their children, and his Grandfather's brother, Ser Kevan – with his son – was the representative to the Old Lion himself. He even had his Uncle Jon Arryn there too, with his wife and two year-old child.

_Time for gifts!_ Arthur thought excitedly as his Father stood with a wave of his hand, which caused servants to rush forward with a case. "Now my son, this is not a toy." King Robert told him as Arthur opened the case to see a marvellous looking castle forged steel longsword. "I had that Mott fellow, the armourer, to make it." After that the King sat down and helped himself to more wine.

"Thank you Father." Arthur said, his eyes wide as he stared at the sword.

Then his Mother stood. "To have a might blade, you need an excellent tutor, love." Queen Cersei smiled at her second born son. "So I have asked your Uncle Jaime if he would consider taking you on as his Squire."

"And I said yes." The Kingslayer interrupted smirking. Arthur felt his jaw lower his mouth into an open position and Myrcella giggled at her brother's face.

"I- don't know what to say." Arthur said, his eyes wider than before.

"A simple 'thank you' would suffice nephew." Jaime winked at him arrogantly and Arthur, his wits quickly returning, replied with an easy retort.

"I'll thank you when you're on your arse." The young buck retorted with a cheeky grin.

Robert boomed a laugh and Myrcella gifted Arthur with a simple leather bracelet she had gotten made for him. He had picked up the four year-old and thanked her, swearing he would wear it always.

Joffrey's absence filled his mind with pain. His brother complained when he was late for _his_ Nameday, but on Arthur's Nameday, he was not there.

His Uncle Tyrion had gifted him with the short stories and songs throughout the Seven Kingdoms and a history book on House Baratheon, and their ancestors, House Durrandon. Arthur had thanked him enthusiastically with those gifts. He loved to read and research history, and his Uncle Tyrion knew that. The gift was really ideal.

His Grand-Uncle Kevan and cousin Lancel had gifted him with three large pouches filled with gold, which he placed around him, and his Uncle Stannis, his wife Selyse and his cousin Shireen had gifted him with a set of Dragonglass daggers in different shapes and sizes.

His Uncle Renly's gift and his older, bastard Cousin's gift were to different things; with Renly generously gifting him an appointment with the finest tailor in King's Landing, with full expense being provided for by Renly, and with Gwaine giving him a collection of lances coated in the colours of House Baratheon or the colours of House Lannister or both.

But, his Father seemingly enjoyed Lord Jon Arryn's gift the most; a journal and a small, one handed hammer, which was just a miniaturised model of his Father's own larger Warhammer.

Finally, Ser Barristan represented the rest of the Kingsguard (minus Ser Jaime) with the gift of full boiled leather and oiled chainmail armour.

And throughout two hours of gift giving, his eldest brother was still not to be found. Until Joffrey had sent a servant to fetch for Arthur.

His gift was for the youngest to observe the correct way to murder and mutilate a pregnant cat and its undeveloped foetus's while the eldest laughed and performed the vile and disgusting act of violence.

Arthur, a few weeks later, informed his two Uncles (Stannis and Tyrion) about the act, who in turn informed the King and Queen. The result ended up with Joffrey losing two of his baby teeth and Arthur being shipped off to Casterly Rock for some unfair reason or another.

Arthur was unhappy about the prospect of being shipped off somewhere he hadn't been before and he had begged Lord Tyrion to come with him, as well as Ser Jaime. Tyrion wasn't easily swayed, but he did promise to return to Casterly Rock within the next few months for visitation.

Jaime was expected to go with him as the young buck's bodyguard and to train his new squire. But his Uncle Jaime was his only companion from the capital allowed into the Westerlands with him, and that made him quite upset.

"You need not worry my little stag," His Mother had said. "You'll make friends from your cousin's on the Rock." But lion's and stag's didn't particularly get on well with each other; a prime example would be his Mother and Father.

* * *

Upon a year after his arrival on the Rock, and turning the tender age of eight, Arthur had improved upon his combat skills, his battle skills and his Grandfather and Grand-Uncle had attempted him to improve his command voice, a voice he had inherited from his Father. But so far, their attempts had not succeeded.

His Uncle Jaime was a tireless task setter, enforcing Arthur to do tedious jobs fit for a servant; such as cleaning his amour, cleaning his sword, his solar, the armoury, bring him his food. But he was also training him to the best of his ability. Jaime still knocked him on his arse every time they sparred but the man was older than him, and more experienced in combat and the best sword in Westeros.

So far, Arthur was enjoying life on the Rock; he was allowed to do more or less anything he wished, so long as he didn't disobey the rules – no laws – that Lord Tywin had made pretty clear within his first weeks.

Rule one, don't embarrass the Family. Rule two, do not bring the Family to shame. Rule three, sire no bastards within the Rock. And his personal favourite, Rule four, do not act a fool, do not embarrass and do not shame the Family of House Lannister.

However, that meant he could do whatever he wished as a Baratheon. He hadn't though; his Uncle Kevin had warned him of his Grandfather's temper. But even that forewarned knowledge did not stop him from demanded answers from the Old Lion about his lodging at the Rock, the exchange between himself and Lancel.

The Warden of the West left him humiliated by the verbal disarmament and he had not attempted to make enough noise for the Old Lion rise from his slumber to roar some more. Arthur had met several of his cousin's on his mother's side and he could honestly say that, although he got along with them well enough, he didn't particularly like them much.

But that was mostly due to the fact of the female relatives his age, that he had enthralled their lust for both power and beauty when they saw him. But mainly, he was cosy enough with Lucion Lannister to call the man his friend.

The climate was also a total difference; during the day it was extremely pleasant, neither too hot nor too cold for it was just right. But it was a different song sung at night, the chilly winds that travelled the Narrow Sea from Essos certainly aided the chill of the water.

Still, the wind was not the only thing that traversed across the Narrow Sea. The most common vessels that bothered with the trip were either merchant vessels or raiders or pirates.

As a matter of fact, last year a band of raiders had landed in Lannisport, pillaging and raping where they went. Lord Tywin had called his Knight's and his cavalry and his brother, Ser Kevan had called for the captains of Lord Tywin's fleet to defend against the naval pirates.

Arthur had been quick to answer the call, even though he had been instructed to stay behind at the age of 9 – two years after his arrival in Casterly Rock – but he didn't. The young buck had hidden away beneath the deck of a nameless ship and aided in the battle.

He could still remember it. Vividly.

_He was running along the deck, attempting to get to the wheel. "Get back to your station!" Spat the Quartermaster, but Arthur shoved past him and reached the wheel._

"_What're you doin' boy?!" Roared the Captain. _

"_They're going to ram us!" Arthur snarled back, twisting the wheel left to alter their course and to avoid the collision. _

_However, Arthur hadn't navigated it all the way and the pirate ship clipped the back of the hull of the Nameless ship. He yelled and faintly heard the roar of 'brace ya selves!' from the Captain._

_Arthur quickly rotated the wheel right and the Nameless ship smashed sideways alongside the offending pirate ship. "Prepare for board!" Captain Shout-a-lot roared through the cutting wind. _

_The crew propelled ropes through the air and into the vicinity of the other ship, the hooks on the end of rope securing a hold around each of the masts. Arthur picked up a loaded crossbow and shot the bolt at a man, where it hit him in the stomach._

_The man growled and Arthur retrieved another loaded one, just in time to see the man he had just shot cross ships and make his way toward the young buck who pulled out his blade in one fluid motion, whilst simultaneously firing another bolt at the advancing man. This time the bolt hit him through the calf of his right leg. _

_Arthur hefted his sword and brought it down with a mighty cry of 'Baratheon!' The man barely blocked the strike, when Arthur was back upon him striking in a way that forced the man to favour his grievously wounded leg. Arthur used his foot to kick the bolt all the way through the leg, causing the man to cry out and for Arthur to get his sword lodged in his neck, blood coating his body red. The man jarred and slowly collapsed to the floor as Arthur lurched his sword from the man's neck._

_The young buck then emptied his stomach over the corpse of the dead man and he disembarked to climb aboard the other ship. He was successful and he killed another four men before they claimed this ship as their own and after a few more captured ships, in which Arthur captured the flagship of the enemy fleet, and he killed many more men, all thanks to the training he had gathered from both Uncle Jaime and Grandfather._

_Upon their return to Lannisport, victorious, they met with a calm but angered Tywin Lannister, a furious Jaime and a slightly amused Kevan Lannister._

Arthur smiled in remembrance of that day. It happened quite a few months ago, and his Grandfather had, very reluctantly, given him a reward for his stubborn stupidity; the flagship of the pirate fleet was his. He had given it the name _Lannea's Revenge_, as a symbol of commemoration to Lann the Clever and the revenge they had gained for the people of Lannisport when they were attacked.

Soon he would go home, back to King's Landing. He had outstayed his three year fostering and it was time to return. How much had changed? Myrcella would be seven, and Tommen – his baby brother would be a big six now. He had missed three years of his brother and sister's lives. He wondered whether his Father would be fatter or fitter. His Mother the same, but would she be beautiful or ugly. And Joff…mad or insanely mad?

Arthur did not know but he would, in three months. He had waited three years for the moment he could return home to King's Landing. Since his success at the naval battle of Lannisport, both Ser Kevan and Lord Tywin were proceeding to tutor him in the art of battle command, both on land and on water. They were able to aid the ten year-old buck quite a bit before he left the Westerlands for the Crownlands.

However, Arthur knew that he wasn't as good as his Father used to be but he still wished to be able to inspire loyalty like the Demon of the Trident did.

* * *

When he returned to King's Landing, Arthur could tell, his Mother was giving him most of her attention, which greatly infuriated Joffrey. One day, the two boys were sparring under the watchful gazes of Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan when Joffrey was beaten quickly and (more or less) effortlessly.

"_You filthy bastard!" Joffrey had cried, getting up and running at Arthur who felt some hurt and anger by the words of his older brother. Joffrey tackled the young buck and punched him in the face. Before Jaime or Barristan could do anything, Arthur's vision filled red with blood and he felt a corrosive anger decompose his calm mind as he rolled Joffrey over to deliver several hard blows to the 11 year-old's head. He was ready to convey another punch but Ser Barristan hauled Arthur off of Joffrey. _

_It was at that moment that the calmness returned and the anger abated, that he could see Joffrey; the boy was moaning on the floor, blood pouring from a broken nose, his mouth and a cut just below his left eye. He already had quite the shiner on his right eye. The salty tears were pouring out of both and mixing with his bloody face._

_And then Joffrey screamed, loudly, and it forced Jaime to pick the boy up bridal style and take off in search of the Grand Maester. Arthur was taken to the Throne room with Ser Barristan and they both waited silently. Arthur simply too ashamed to speak and Ser Barristan regarding the boy with silent neutrality. _

_And then the King entered with Jon Arryn and neither looked pleased. "Leave us." The King ordered and Ser Barristan bowed, and exited the Throne room. Arthur still refused to look up._

"_Your Mother wants to send you to Dragonstone with Stannis until you learn how to control your temper." The King said and Arthur made no move or noise to affirm that he had heard the King. "Look at me boy!" The King shouted, his voice echoing loudly throughout the Throne room. _

_Arthur slowly looked up at him and his Father nodded. "Good, you're feeling shame. Gods be good, I hope that helps you learn control."_

_Uncle Jon spoke up next. "However, your Uncle Renly wants to have your fostered in Storm's End for two years." Arthur looked far better at that punishment, at least Renly was some fun. "However, you will move onto Dragonstone for another two years after your time in Storm's End."_

_Arthur looked down and when he spoke, his voice was empty. "When am I leaving?" He asked._

"_When you're bags are packed and Renly's leaving. Talk to him about the damn thing!" _

Arthur remembered that they left for Storm's End a few days later, with Gwaine and Loras Tyrell, his Uncle's son and squire respectively.

When they had reached Storm's End, without his Uncle Jaime, Gwaine had talked Arthur into accompanying him to one of his combat lessons, which he did, and he had been amazed by the famed combat instructor, Jürgen, who was renowned in Essos for his skills, both with weapons and without them.

He personally taught them several tricks to enforce when fighting with swords, but he was more favourable of Gwaine than Arthur, not that the young buck minded. But when the lesson was on fist fighting and hand-to-hand combat, Jürgen tutored them both equally.

It was only after he had left Storm's end, during his first year on Dragonstone and the year of his thirteenth Nameday that Gwaine was knighted. Every Baratheon child, be him trueborn or baseborn, was elected to participate and even lead a hunt for an animal. You had to personally track it and kill it with a weapon of your choice.

Arthur had tracked a seemingly huge stag throughout the dense forest of the Kingswood and his party of hunter's located the beast within the ruins of the former Targaryen summer home of Summerhall. However, their group wasn't the only hunter's. A pride of lions had been tracking the stag to, and that was when they had decided to attack.

But Arthur went straight for the stag with a dirk in his hand. The mighty beast had sensed his intentions though, and it marked its last stand with prideful anger. Arthur remembered that he didn't pay any attention to it and he had still attempted to bag his kill.

_He growled back at the stag, whose teeth was bared in a silent snarl of anger. Arthur noticeably crept closer to the beast whom seemingly decided to make a charge at the Black Lion who dodged the attack and removing him of his own dirk. The stag charged again, this time capturing Arthur within its antlers and the closeness allowed for Arthur to flip around its neck in a move reminiscent of Jürgen, and snap its neck. _

_Unfortuneately for the Black Lion, he had not anticipated being collided into by a lion with the desire to tear his throat out. Had it not been for Gwaine, he would have died by the maws of the lion. Gwaine not only saved the Prince, but he ensured his safety as the hunting party decimated the lions. _

Afterwards, Arthur's Father had knighted Gwaine upon the spot, in gratitude for saving the Prince's life from the mountain lions, and he had also gifted him with the role as Arthur's sword shield, something that seemingly pleased Arthur's cousin. That night was Arthur's Nameday feast, which was where Gwaine was formerly knighted in the eyes of the Lords and Ladies of his Father's court and where his appointment as the Black Lion's sword shield was announced.

Arthur's Father had also presented Arthur with a gift; a Valyrian Steel bastard sword with an intricate hilt and pommel.

_Arthur tossed the newly anointed Knight a smile, which Ser Gwaine returned when his Father stood and withdrawing a sheathed sword from a case at his side. Arthur's blue-green eyes searched his Father's and then the sword wondrously. _

"_My son." Robert began, offering the blade, which Arthur accepted. "My gift to you; a sword of Valyrian Steel. Call it what you will, it's nameless and God's be damned make it a good one."_

_The name was flowing from his lips the moment his Father stopped speaking. "Roaring Fury." He said, his eyes glancing up at his Father who nodded, his chins jiggling with his head. _

"_A good name for a good blade boy." The King said, the he turned and raised his voice. "Now let's get drunk until we can't remember our bloody names!" The King shouted and cheers rose with him. Arthur watched from the Dias as Robert descended to a couple of serving wenches and fooled around with them._

A few weeks later, Stannis had allowed him to travel to Dragonstone using _Lannea's Revenge_ with Ser Gwaine in tow. It was there when he met **her**. Melisandre, his Uncle Stannis' Red Priestess and, if rumours were to be believed, his lover.

She had arrived only a few weeks prior to his departure from Dragonstone to the Crownlands, and she had enchanted men with her beauty and interesting ways, but she had also frightened them with her fanaticism with her Red God.

Arthur would be a liar if he said he wasn't one of the many who she had enchanted by her beauty. He was drawn to her still, even after he had discovered some of her power when he willingly gave her the use of his body in a night that brought them both a lot of pleasure.

_He was penning a letter to his little brother and sister when she visited his chambers. Her, the beautiful woman with alabaster skin and the long, luscious locks of hair that had been kissed by fire. She was the full embodiment of a curvaceous woman, with full perky breasts and wide hips. 'The wider the hip, the stronger the child,' His Mother used to say. But Arthur could not yet lay his naked eye upon her bare form._

"_My Prince." She purred in her strange accent. Arthur felt a slight tightening of his small clothes._

"_My Lady." Arthur greeted, placing the pen down next to his letter draft. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"_

_The Lady Melisandre did nothing but smile. Her eyes, an unnatural ruby red accented the ruby she wore on the choker around her neck. "You're stressed." She said, her eyes lighting slightly when he clenched his jaw. "I happen to know of a…cure to stress relief Prince Arthur."_

_Arthur moved his chair out and stood to face her with a sigh. "Apologies, my Lady, but I'm afraid I must retire for the evening. We can speak of such things on the morrow." Arthur promised but the Lady of Asshai simply smiled and allowed her red robes to descend from her body, the silk red caressing her pink, hardening nipples as it did so._

_Arthur swallowed, and he stood motionless when she reached him. Her hand reached down and groped his hardening manhood._

"_Relax, and let your mind go…" She whispered and Arthur did just that. His mind went blank, and the next thing he knew, he was as bare as a new-born and he was on his back on his bed with a deliciously hot slippery thing flicking the head of his manhood. He groaned and looked down to see the familiar red locks of Melisandre bobbing up and down with the motion of sucking his cock. _

_Arthur groaned when an audible pop signalled the removal of Melisandre's mouth from around his cock, but he shifted excitedly when he felt her red hair tickle his stomach, and her bare cunt lips rubbing against his head when she moved her body. _

"_Are you relaxed my Prince?" She whispered, her lips fluttering around his own gently. Arthur could only nod when she kissed him, her hot mouth and tongue clashing with his own. Arthur felt her hand grip his member and guide into her warm cunt while she was still kissing him._

_And then she lifted up and broke the kiss, and she started to ride him. Arthur's groans and her moans echoed throughout his chamber as they conjoined, using his cock and her cunt as their sword and sheath._

_She moaned when he growled predatorily and he rolled them over, with the Red Priestess laying on her back, flushed with sweat from their sex. He started to piston in and out of her snatch at a fast pace._

_Her moans set off an ignition of his cum which exploded out of him and into the woman below him. Arthur, breathing heavily, glanced down and her red eyes were staring up at him with unbridled power._

* * *

Arthur gasped awake, breath spilling out of him like a roaring flame. "Arthur?" The voice of Ariana was there and Arthur turned to her, his blue-green eyes matching her amethyst gaze and noticing slight concern for him in there. "Are you alright?" He nodded quickly.

"Yeah." He said turning to her and offering her a brief smile. "Bad dream. Go back asleep." Ariana slowly did as he said and Arthur exhaled, finally being able to control his breathing.

He turned and hugged Ariana to his body as he lay back down beside her. "It's the archery part of the tournament tomorrow, is it not?" She asked quietly and Arthur buried his face into her, with his right cheek and her left cheek touching gently.

"Aye." He replied and Ariana laughed slightly.

"You will do well." She said. "I know you will."

But Arthur laughed. "I'm terrible with a bow; that skill relies on Joffrey not me. Besides, I am not competing in Archery."

Ariana turned to face him, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. "Didn't your Father say he would knight you if you win the whole tourney?" She questioned confusedly.

Arthur nodded. "Yes…but he also said, should I fail in archery, that as so long as I win the melee and the jousting, and defeat my Uncle Jaime in both contests, then he would knight me." Ariana hummed.

She played with his black hair for a moment and Arthur allowed his eyes to close. "I give you my favour in these trials my Prince." She whispered and Arthur felt her seal the proclamation with a kiss.

Arthur smiled and together they fell asleep, unaware of the troubles and turmoil of a magnitude of men on a Wall of ice.

* * *

**Wow! I've been writing this for like two days non-stop. I will admit that this chapter might have confused some people from the way it is written but this is just one chapter highlighting key events in Arthur's past, and how it coincides with his future.**

**Also, whoever the 'guest' is who reviewed, saying he found my last chapter boring and urging me to write solely in King's Landing in the PoV of Arthur, Ariana or anyone in the vicinity of the location of the all of the 'action'. First of all, no I won't. I won't because I already have a clear path lined up for the direction that my story will go in, meaning I have selected what character PoV I will write in, in all of the chapters to come.**

**Next Chapter is Ser Gwaine's moment, and it coincides accurately with this chapter.**

**Saint River, I thank you for your praise and the title selection was garnered when I watched On Stranger Tides with my younger cousin again.**


	10. Ser Gwaine II

**Cold Wind Blows**

_This is an AU of George R.R Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' universe but it will follow, in a way, the plot of the series. The story will integrate the Legend of King Arthur into the story. I do not own anything, nor do I claim to._

**Chapter 10: When Dead Rise Again**

**Edited: 15/04/2015**

* * *

The whole of Castle Black was in uproar. Two bodies of two brilliant Rangers were found by Benjen Stark when the First Ranger had ventured out through the tunnel beneath the Wall. Ser Gwaine didn't know their names, and he didn't particularly care to learn them.

A fat boy, Samwell, had volunteered to the Wall but he had not yet spoke his vows. Ser Gwaine knew that men who came to the Wall of their own free will were allowed to leave, so long as they hadn't swore their sacred oath.

And Jon had took a liking to the chubby boy, who just so happened to be the son of the notorious Randyll Tarly, the only Lord who was able to manage a defeat against his Uncle Robert during the Rebellion.

The Lord Commander had said that Tarly was a craven, but Gwaine simply thought the boy was nervous and smart. Smart enough not to try and get himself killed. But that didn't explain why he was up at this desolate Wall.

"Sam!" He called, when he noticed the boy starting to walk away.

"Y-yes S-Ser Gwaine?" He asked, and Gwaine beckoned him to walk with him.

"You and Jon are getting along very well Sam…" Gwaine stated, preferring to ease Samwell into explaining why he was up at the Wall, instead of down in the Reach, eating and reading and getting fatter. Sam nodded with a small, shy smile.

"But sooner or later, Jon, myself and Lord Tyrion will leave, heading south." Sam's smile disappeared.

"I know." Sam said. "I wish I could come with you but…"

"Do so." Ser Gwaine encouraged with a small smile. "Come back to King's Landing. Your Jon's friend." He said again and Sam shrugged.

"I can't." He said simply and Gwaine opened his mouth to reply when Sam cut across him. "I know I can leave here before I swear my vows, but my honour as a Tarly will not allow me to."

Ser Gwaine looked at him, as if truly seeing beneath the skin of the huge body of Samwell Tarly for the first time.

"Fair enough Samwell." He said and Sam nodded, hobbling off. Gwaine watched him go and turned away, heading toward Lord Tyrion. Gods be good he needed some food and drink in his belly, he needed something other than just guts.

* * *

Gwaine had been on his way to his chambers when a white blur shot by him, followed quickly by his squire.

"Sorry!" Jon Snow had cried, chasing after Ghost. Ser Gwaine was dumbfound for a moment before he took off after the companions. Ghost was scratching at the Lord Commander's chamber door.

"Jon!" Gwaine barked, skidding to a halt as the youth unlatched the door. Ghost was whining and barking.

"It's Ghost." Jon said by way of explanation. Gwaine drew his blade and walked into the Lord Commander's chambers.

Jon and Ser Gwaine entered. "Ghost, stay." Jon ordered quietly, causing the Direwolf to whine but he did as he was bade.

"Hello?" Jon called, hand on the hilt of his sword. Gwaine entered the room first and Jon followed.

"Lord Commander?" Ser Gwaine asked loudly, his voice ringing. A creak sounded through the air. "Who's there?" The knight demanded as he spun around.

The door slammed shut and the reanimated corpse of one of the Ranger's found by Benjen Stark near the tunnel entrance, north of the Wall, stalked forward, hissing and spitting. Gwaine moved forward and pierced his blade through its heart, and the Wight swung its arm around, catching Gwaine at the side of the head and propelling him into the wall.

Gwaine gasped for air as he looked up to see Jon break out of its vice like chokehold by smacking its arms, stabbing it with his dirk and head-butting the face of the Wight. All the while Ghost was barking and snarling outside the door. Gwaine attempted to crawl over to the door to open it when Jon stabbed the Wight through the face with his sword. The being collapsed and Ser Gwaine used the wall to ascend to his feet.

"What's going on?" Demanded a voice. "Snow? Storm?" The Lord Commander.

"Commander." Jon said as he rushed over to him, leaving his blade buried in the Wight's face. Gwaine watched as the Wight stood with some slight disbelief, especially when it removed the blades from his body, tossing them to the floor.

"Jon!" Gwaine gasped, catching the other bastard's eye. "The damn fire!" He nodded at the Lord Commander's lamp as the Wight seemingly smirked at Jon.

The bastard Direwolf seized the lantern by its blistering hot side without so much as a glance as he threw it at the Wight, who ignited immediately.

Jon rushed over to Ser Gwaine and the bastard knight allowed his squire to aid him into the room adjacent to this one. "Come on Lord Commander!" Jon urged. The Old Bear moved quickly and Jon gave him a little shove.

"Move!" He said. Gwaine felt his eyes close slightly. "Gwaine?!"

And then everything went black.

* * *

When Gwaine came around a few days later, Jon informed him of the destruction of the two Wight's.

"The Lord Commander gave me a gift." Jon had said, withdrawing the new sword he had at his side. "Valyrian Steel; Longclaw, the ancestral blade of House Mormont."

The blade was a beauty and it rivalled the design of Prince Arthur's own bastard sword design. Its grip was of black leather with a white stone, snarling Direwolf pommel with ruby red eyes. It had a magnificent, iridescent ripples of folded steel up along the blood groove. The balance on the blade was extraordinary, it was almost as if it was weightless.

They had talked for a few hours, with Jon explaining to Gwaine how he had been practising with the other boys on the Wall, the reconstruction of the Lord Commander's tower and the masive ranging of three hundred crows north of the Wall. As Jon was preparing to leave, Gwaine seized his right hand.

Jon glanced at him with confusion. "Gwaine?" He asked and Gwaine looked up to lock gazes with the Bastard of Winterfell. He narrowed his gaze and, under the torch light, he could make out specks of purple in his grey eyes.

"Your hand, the one you used to grab the torch with; is it burnt?" The Bastard Knight asked and Jon frowned.

"No." He said. "Maester Aemon was surprised when I told him that, but the he smiled and asked me to fetch Sam for him."

Gwaine nodded and released his grip on Jon, who nodded at him and turned to leave. However, he paused at the doorway and turned around.

Gwaine regarded him curiously. "Oh and, Lord Tyrion said that if you are feeling better, and are ready to leave, then we are to depart on the morrow." Jon said before he had left, leaving Gwaine in his bed.

_Of course the Imp would say that._ He thought, and probably just to get a rise out of him. Gwaine sighed. He shifted in his bed and attempted to get some rest, but sleep alluded him. He had so many questions about so many different things. Mainly, for him, was the Wight. Truth about the rising threat beyond the Wall? Or just a queer occurrence?

Either way, Gwaine knew that he had to do something to help the Night's Watch. Mayhaps more and more recruits were to be sent up? Arthur would see to it, Gwaine knew he would. A portion of the Gold Cloaks to go along with the prisoners? Or some of the poorer males of Flee Bottom.

Gwaine sighed, his head turning at the sound of a door and the delivery of food, but his mind lingered, turning back to Jon Snow.

He had grey-purple eyes, he was roughly immune to fire and his birth was a mystery to some,although he knew that Jon was brought up from the south to Winterfell shortly after the Tyrell's bent the knee. Gwaine had a spark of treacherous thoughts when he thought back seventeen years ago. Ned Stark was not the only Stark who was down south, near Dorne. Lyanna Stark was too, with Rhaegar Targaryen.

The Targaryen's were a family who had lithe and lean bodies, purple eyes and were known as Dragon's due to their shared quality; they were impervious to fire.

But, Gwaine thought as he shoveled spoonfuls of auroch pie into his mouth, there was no way Jon Snow was secretly a Targaryen. It was folly to think such things.

* * *

**Hello again, the next chapter will be back in King's Landing I promise. This is relatively short, but today I would have uploaded about 6k of words, or thereabouts. But, I know that this is not up to my usual standards. The next few chapters will be in and around King's Landing, I promise!**

**Next chapter will be Ariana's and expect it to be long, but I won't be able to start writing until next Friday in my spare time.**

**Spacedragon1999 – **Hello, thank you for reviewing! The Melisandre scene is a key factor for my story ;) their joining is a vital component for the story to come…if you know what I mean The Flames told her many a tale, and I may include the vision in a Melisandre interlude chapter in the future…maybe.

**Thank you all, and goodnight..**


	11. Ariana II

**Cold Wind Blows**

_This is an AU of George R.R Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' universe but it will follow, in a way, the plot of the series. The story will integrate the Legend of King Arthur into the story. I do not own anything, nor do I claim to._

**Chapter 11: Tourney – Archery &amp; Joust (Part 1)**

**Edited: 04/04/2015**

* * *

A gentle brush of whiskers and a peck on her shoulder roused Ariana from her deep slumber. A small smile appeared on her face and she stretched her body out like a cat, before rolling onto her front and lifting her legs up. Her keen purple eyes sought out Arthur's body as arms and legs moved to dress the Prince. Her eyes traced his still unshaven face, the glow of dawn searing across her chambers and gifting the former Princess with a spectacular view.

Today was the first day of the tourney and, coincidentally, the Archery part of the grand tourney. Ariana knew that Arthur was a decent shot with a bow, even though he constantly reminded her that Joffrey was better than himself. Her lover was dressed in a tunic made of soft white cotton and a boiled leather jerkin of a light brown colouring and simple but elegant black boots that accompanied his dark grey pants. He looked delicious.

Ariana smiled and she arched her back once more into a stretch, her breasts presented out to Arthur more and her rear appearing more firm. Ariana bit her lip coyly as she glanced at her lover through half-lidded lashes and silently laughed when she noticed his slight bulge. The Dornish woman removed herself from the Prince's comfortable bed and wandered off to the bathtub located behind a small side room. She heard Arthur sigh and she laughed to herself.

Ariana glanced at her body in the looking glass, and her hand rubbed at her exposed belly. Arthur had spilled himself inside of her again last night and she swallowed at the thought of becoming pregnant with his child and succumbing to her everyday growing desire to abandon her mission and allow herself to fall in love with Arthur.

She forcibly removed such thoughts from her head and deigned to take a visit to Chataya's to find some moon tea before she could truly become pregnant. She turned to ace the product of her thoughts when she noticed him observing her in the looking glass.

"What?" She asked and Arthur smiled at her. He was propped up against the wall with his arms folded and he was clearly enjoying what he was eyeing. Ariana forced the shy act to appear. "Stop looking at me like that." She said quietly, using her long black locks to cover her erect nipples and pert breasts. Arthur seemed amused.

"And why not my Lady?" He asked, his eyes glimmering and Ariana knew she wasn't fooling him.

"Because it's making me uncomfortable." Arthur smirked and his eyes flickered away from hers momentarily.

He unfolded his arms and took a step closer. "Forgive me." He whispered and he turned her around gently. He tucked two fingers under her chin and brought her downcast eyes to see into his own blue-green. He pressed a quick, fond kiss to her lips.

"I will see you in a few hours love." He said and Ariana furiously fought to control her reaction to his term of endearment, and she was quite successful aside from the widening of her eyes. An action he seemed to take notice of with a sparkle in his eyes and a quirk of his lips. Ariana nodded and they kissed once more.

She forced herself to remain as silent as possible until she heard his bed chamber door slam shut. And then she released a shuddering breath as she sank to the floor. _The Spider had predicted this._ She thought as her mind attacked the term coming from her lover's mouth. 'Love' he had said.

Love was something you said to someone you cherished the most. Did that mean he cherished her? Did that mean that he saw her as something more than someone to light his wick, so to speak? Or did he just say that to attempt to get a reaction from her?

Whatever the Prince's feelings, Ariana was here to do a mission, and for the rest of the morning she repeated the same phrase like a mantra; 'I am here to complete a mission, not to fall in love.'

She didn't stop repeating the mantra within her head until she had gulped down the moon tea she had procured from Chataya a few hours later. She sighed with a small smile once the bitter liquid had been swallowed. Ariana now looked down at herself, her smiling slowly removing itself from her face to be replaced with a frown when her eyes followed the movements of her hand from across her stomach.

* * *

The archer's had been well into the tournament when Ariana had arrived. However, she had just been fast enough to witness the ending of the archery contest. Her eyes sought out her lover, and he was draped over his chair with a bunch of grapes in one hand and a goblet full of, what she presumed, to be wine. Her eyes turned back to the archer's after she had caught the Prince's eye.

A man, dressed in colours of motley grey and black leather, shot an arrow and it embedded itself within the bulls eye, and then the other man, outfitted in dark and light boiled leather armour with a hood of green wool covering his face, withdrew two arrows and nocked the bow. He shot two arrows, one which split both the other man's arrow, and his final arrow splitting his arrow.

The herald called his name. "The Winner of the Archery Competition … Anguy the Archer, of the Dornish Marches." The man walked to the King with his final three competitors and bowed before the fat Usurper, King Robert.

The fat King grumbled and tossed a sack of gold toward Anguy and waved away the other two.

The herald spoke again. "The Joust will proceed with after a short break." Ariana watched as Arthur stood and disappeared, hastily in the direction of his tent.

The crowds started muttering and Ariana quickly escaped the lower stands of the common folk to sneak into Arthur's tent. She very nearly swallowed her heart when the Kingslayer walked past her. However, the arrogant lion barely paid her a speck of attention.

Her feet transported her within the confines of Arthur's tent and she stealthily crept in. He was in the process of buckling the straps to his steel chest plate. Ariana amused herself by watching him struggle for a moment before she stepped up and tied the strap for him.

"There." She said with a small smile and Arthur turned to her. He placed his hands on her hips and pulled her close. She wrapped her arms around his torso and ruthlessly crushed down her conflicting emotions. "How are you feeling?" She questioned in a murmur and Arthur shrugged his shoulders.

"It is not the first time I will be jousting." He said as he lent his forehead upon her own, their eyes locked in an eternal moment of serenity. She smiled slightly.

"I know … win it for me?" She asked and Arthur nodded with a slight chuckle. She smiled and left without giving him a totem of her luck. She heard him sigh as she entered the jousting ground, where she quickly situated herself near the royal box.

The herald called for silence. "Jousters line up!" The herald shouted, his voice carrying through the encampment. A form of riders entered the grounds and they turned their horses in the direction of the King. The herald announced every man within the tournament who he recognized, but some he skipped over.

Ariana's eyes sought Arthur and she found him near the end of the list, near the Mountain, his Uncle Jaime, Renly Baratheon and the Knight of Flowers. He was wearing the fine quality armour she had helped him into and he was seated upon a black and white Courser, with the banner for House Baratheon wrapped around the horse's flank.

"Jouster's!" The herald cried. "Place your challenges." Ariana watched as pandemonium took root. Jory Cassel threw down a gauntlet at Horas Redwyne, and Beric Dondarrion ordered a hedge knight to battle. "First to the lists, Jory of House Cassel and Horas of House Redwyne. Riders clear the field!"

The rest of the jousters wandered off and the two combatants donned their shields, their helms and retrieved their lances. "Begin!" The King roared before the herald had the chance to open his mouth.

Horas Redwyne spurred his charger into a gallop within seconds whilst Jory slowly advanced from a trot to a gallop, allowing for more control and aim with the lance. Horas raised his shield as he moved the lance away from Jory and the force of the power forced Horas to keel over backwards while his charger trotted forward.

Ariana had seen some of her friends in Dorne fight using lances but this was even more brutal. The first part of the joust took four hours to get somewhere and within those hours Jory had been defeated (but not before he had trounced Horas Redwyne), as had Lothor Brune and Ser Robar Royce. One or two hedge knights had been defeated and Ariana watched her lover go all out with Ser Barristan Selmy. Arthur and Ser Barristan hadn't gave an inch, neither one willing to back up and yield to the other. In the end, Arthur had broken 14 lances to Ser Barristan's 19 and both jouster's were given the remainder of that day off and their combat had been awarded with a draw.

She had watched her mother's murderer defeat a mystery knight, Ser Balon Swann (who had beaten a fellow from Winterfell) and kill a boy by lodging a splinter of his lance in his unprotected throat. Ariana had also bear witness to her hired hand, Gerold, destroy a hedge knight within five tilts.

Ariana was waiting for the man in his tent. "My Contractor." He drawled, removing a dirk from his belt.

"Gerold." She returned pleasantly. He smirked at her and downed a mug of wine.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, his body moving around and depositing his armour and weapons upon different racks in his tent. Ariana felt his eyes linger on her bust when he turned around.

"To ensure that you understand your task." She said, and he laughed.

Ariana felt her temper throb before she buried the rage within her at his laughter. "I do; I'm here to kill your little fuck toy." He laughed again and Ariana glared at him.

"Yes, but not in the joust. In the confusion with the Melee. That is when he will be most vulnerable." She explained patiently and he scoffed.

"I'll let you do what you do best, which is spread your legs for him whenever you can and you can let me do what I do best; which is to kill." Gerold smirked, but Ariana could have sworn she heard the subtle tone of jealousy and longing in his rough voice. He was wholly unprepared for the strike across his face.

Ariana's face was livid. "How dare you?" She whispered icily. The man didn't make a sound. "I am Rhaenys, Daughter of the Last Dragon and the Sun Princess! One of the last survivors of House Targaryen." She rose and the man stared at her with eyes wide with shock. Rhaenys smirked to herself.

"If that didn't scare you, maybe my Uncle Oberyn – the Red Viper – will." He looked away and Rhaenys exited his tent with a dignified air around her.

She made her way to her home, her mind consumed with recklessness. _Idiot,_ she thought, _there are ears everywhere, if Darkstar had somebody in his tent with him, they would have heard my proclamation, and they would tell the King or worse, Arthur. _

'Twas almost as if the thought of the Prince summoned him, for when Rhaenys neared here home, she heard Arthur. Rhaenys quickly forved some tears out of her eyes and she opened the door.

She sniffled loudly, gaining the attention of Arthur. "Ariana?" He asked and she looked up at him. The Princess felt a flutter of desire in her stomach when Arthur's eyes clouded with protective rage. "Who did this?" He demanded and Rhaenys shook her head, looking away.

"Ariana!" He shouted, grabbing her arms and shaking her slightly. "Who. Did. This?"

She searched his face and her eyes observed nothing but protection and anger. "One of the knights…"

"What was his sigil?" He cut across her and Rhaenys fumbled slightly.

"It-it-" She cut herself of to take a deep breath. "He had a dragonstreak." She whispered, and Arthur pulled her into his warm embrace.

"I'll find out who it was my love…I promise." Arthur vowed and the young dragoness snuggled into his warmth and Arthur picked her up to place on the bed.

The young couple were comfortable when Arthur kissed her shoulder blade affectionately. "Did he…touch you?" He asked her and the young woman shook her head in certain denial. "Okay Ria." Arthur whispered, shortening her name slightly and pulling her closer to him. "Get some rest, and try and sleep." Rhaenys pretended to fall asleep with Arthur, but she stayed awake longer than Arthur did.

The Princess was uncertain on whether or not informing Arthur of Gerold was a good idea, however, she knew that know Arthur would want to kill Gerold in the harshest way he could imagine just for threatening her. She wished she could witness what would happen should someone ever touch or hurt her physically, but at the same time she would be afraid to.

Her Arthur had quite the temper and he was nigh uncontrollable when his rage possessed his mind. But he was very protective of the people who he was close with and who he loved. Rhaenys was starting to believe that she was one of them

* * *

**Sorry about the wait and the absolute unworthiness of this chapter and the abysmal length of it … but I hope you enjoyed it. Tomorrow I am aiming to get a few more chapters up to finish the Tourney, but I am really tired and I was lacking motivation when I was writing the first half of this.**

**I know some of you called it, but yay! Rhaenys is alive and is fu**ing Arthur! **

**Spacedragon1999 – **Yes, Melisandre seduced Arthur…and that seduction plays a vital role in the future of my story. Interesting theory Melisandre may be aware of Joffrey's parentage, but she doesn't particularly care about it.

**Saint River –** I couldn't think of a good title besides that one! But it would make sense if I actually did that. The pirate scene was inspired from On Stranger Tides and AC Black Flag that I randomly played out of the blue last week in complete boredom.

I wanted him and Melisandre to do the dirty instead of himself and Myrcella ;) if you understand where I am going with this? ***King*** and I haven't taken offence.

**King – **Possibly ;) ;)

**Guest – **Yes, yes he did. He ravished Melisandre and they both enjoyed it. She believes that their union will bring about a … you'll just have to wait and read it, further along in the story.


	12. Tyrion II

**Cold Wind Blows**

_This is an AU of George R.R Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' universe but it will follow, in a way, the plot of the series. The story will integrate the Legend of King Arthur into the story. I do not own anything, nor do I claim to._

**Chapter 12: The Plight of the Kingsroad**

* * *

For the first time since he arrived in the North, a few months ago, Tyrion was rather jubilant in his cravings for the warmth of South of the Neck. Although Winterfell and all of the Holdings he had seen so far had a charming warmth to them, except perhaps Castle Black, he was happy to be travelling home.

After the departure of himself, Jon Snow and Ser Gwaine from the Wall, they had encountered several outlaw brigands and wildlings. Naturally, Tyrion noted, the two sword friendly men dealt with them accordingly. Afterwards, the bastard knight and his bastard squire spoken quietly between them but Tyrion had heard Ser Gwaine mentioning that Jon had 'killed' his boy to make way for his man.

The Impish lion knew what he meant by those words. He had remembered the words his Father had used to describe a 9 year-old Arthur to him. _"He's killed his boy Tyrion." The old Lion had said, staring at his youngest son with slight disdain. "He's ascended to a man at 9 years of age. That's something I cannot boast upon my own sons." _

Thee dwarf had asked what he had meant when his Father brushed him off to ask someone else. Tyrion remembered his humiliated anger. But he did as Lord Tywin had told him to, his curious thirst of knowledge that required the most delicate itch of the story of the defiance of the Black Lion and the defence of Lannisport.

Tales of Arthur's deeds – a nine year-old boy's deeds – spread like wildfire and when Tyrion had returned to King's Landing Cersei had questioned him on the validity of the rumours before she had surrendered to the confines of her bed chambers, where she stayed for three days before returning to her day to day life within the Red Keep. Although, after those days she became the full embodiment of an Ice Queen.

Tyrion glanced around the brothel as he drank his fill of wine, his eyes catching Jon Snow's curls bobbing as he left to no doubt fuck his little alehouse wench. Tyrion turned to Gwaine, only for him to remember that the knight had disappeared with three whores in tow not two hours ago.

The Imp sighed and jumped off of his chair, slamming his tankard on the wooden table and taking off to quench his carnal urges. He found himself some whores who greedily took his gold and happily pleasured him like he pleasured them. His eyes blinked blaringly and he felt three different size breasts covering him.

The Imp's eyes focused enough for him to recognise the red hair of Ros, the dirty blonde of Kendryl and the raven black of Mariah. He smirked slightly when he realised that his rapidly hardening cock was inside Kendryl and he juggled his hips slightly, which woke the busty beauty up.

"Oh!" She moaned, her eyes snapping open. "My Lord." Tyrion grinned when he felt his other two whores awaken.

* * *

Jon and Gwaine had insisted on leaving that today, and so the bastard Stark bade farewell to his older brother Robb and his youngest Rickon, Theon Greyjoy and Ser Rodrik Cassel. Tyrion watched from the side lines as Jon bent down in his horse to whisper a sweet goodbye to his bonny sweetheart, Bess the Landlord's daughter. His mismatched eyes turned to Ser Gwaine as Jon leaned away from Bess.

"How much gold would you stake on that girl being ripe with child?" He asked as Jon drew closer with seemingly great reluctance.

"A lot." Gwaine answered calmly, as he spurred his horse away. Tyrion and Jon followed when the latter reached the dwarf. The trio, along with two Lannister, Baratheon and Stark guards, departed the hospitality of the Starks and entered the Kingsroad.

An hour or two into their journey, they reached a tavern and Tyrion wished to stop, but Ser Gwaine refuted. "We have been riding two hours my Lord," He said, glaring slightly. "If you wish to stop, go on. We will keep on going." The knight indicated himself and Jon. Tyrion frowned at him and offered no more complaints.

The Knight halted their small party of nine when he reached another inn, just shortly before the darkness of the night entered and spread throughout the world. Tyrion was off his horse quick as a fiddle and into the Inn before the other men.

"Ah finally." The dwarf said, withdrawing a handful of golden dragons and walking toward the Innkeeper. "Three rooms, nines plates of good feed and nine flagons of good ale." The Inn Keep bowed and accepted the coins. "Oh," He said, his eyes catching the white of Ghost. "And a leg of goat, raw."

"Of course Milord. Right away Milord." The man shuffled off, barking order's at his cooks and his servers. Tyrion located a table for himself, Ser Gwaine and Jon and he perched himself on the chair. Jon mirrored his movements, removing his winter cloak as he did so.

Ser Gwaine did so with a tired sigh and Tyrion quirked a grin. "Wishing now that we had stopped at the Inn a few hours ago?" Jon smothered a chuckle and he turned to a server who presented him with his flagon of ale and meal of meat broth and bread, and an abundance of cleavage. However, Jon simply thanked her politely and turned his back to her.

Tyrion was quick to take his own meal as was Gwaine. Together the three ate their meal. "On the morrow," Gwaine said swallowing some broth. "We will leave at dawn to make better time." Jon offered no argument but Tyrion felt aghast at the proclamation.

"Without my beauty sleep?" He cracked, his eyes glittering when Jon smiled with laughter. Gwaine's amusement was in his eyes, even though his mouth was pressed tightly together.

"Unfortunately." The bastard knight returned with an eye roll. Tyrion grinned as his mismatched eyes reached the deep blue of Gwaine's. Their impromptu staring contest was interrupted by Jon, who wolfishly teared at his bread, the sound which caused Ghost to whine.

"Is that meat been eaten?" Tyrion questioned, his face ashen. Jon laughed, and he rubbed Ghost's head. The Direwolf's jaws were coated in a rich ruby red that matched his eyes and when he yawned, Tyrion felt faint.

"Yes." Jon replied and Gwaine laughed some more. "He must've been hungry." Jon Snow smiled as his hand rubbed the fur of the great beast affectionately.

Tyrion pushed what remained of his broth and picked uneasily at his bread. "Sometimes," He said. "I have to force myself to remember that Ghost is not a docile beast." Gwaine offered Jon his agreement.

"I understand." Jon said and he stood with a bow. "My Lord's, excuse me, I would retire for the evening." Gwaine nodded and waved him away. The young lad left, Ghost scurrying along at his heels.

Tyrion drank his ale and Gwaine nudged him. "You scared the boy off." He said and Tyrion stood, tossing his empty flagon on the table.

"You're still a boy yourself." He said as he left the knight alone at his table.

* * *

They had arrived at an Inn past the Twins, a few days after they had been riding hard from Winterfell. As he entered the Landlady had informed him of a lack of room. Jon scoffed slightly.

"I assure you my Lord," the woman said nervously, her eyes darting to the guards and Ghost. "We have nothing." Gwaine closed the door and silence paraded the Inn.

Tyrion nodded at Jon and emptied two dragons. "Our guards can sleep in the stable, as for myself … well I do not require a large room."

"But the wolf Milord." The woman said. "He'll be scaring me customers." Jon scowled.

"He and I will be in the stable." He said stiffly and Tyrion moved forwards, tapping his gold dragons on two tables as he did so.

"Is there any way I can do?" Tyrion said as he did so. "To remedy this?" A sullen man with inky black hair which was matted with sweat and grime, dressed in grey and black leathers and dull chainmail spoke up.

"You can 'ave my room." He offered and Tyrion nodded at him with a pleased smile.

"Now there is a clever man!" The Imp mocked and he tossed the Sellsword the golden dragon. He turned to the Inn Keeper. "You _can_ manage food for me and my companions, yes?"

Tyrion noticed Jon move to the door with Gwaine, the latter whispering something in his ear. "My Lord of Lannister!" A bard cried out. "May I entertain you while you eat? I could sing of your Lord Father's victory in King's Landing."

Tyrion sneered slightly. "Nothing would more likely _ruin_ my supper."

A man stood up and wavered slightly as he staggered on over. "Imp." The man spat with drunken anger and disgust. Tyrion raised his eyebrow as he turned to the man and his mismatched gaze peered into the man's black eyes.

"I know of a Lady who would pay for your weight in gold if I take her to you." He said and Tyrion turned around, his eyes noticing that the man's words had sparked interest with a number of people.

"Oh?" The man grinned at Tyrion's question. The man shoved past the dwarf and neared a man dressed in finely boiled leather.

"You," He said and the other man looked at him. "You're a knight of Harrenhal … the Lady Went has always been a true friend to the Lord Hoster Tully, has she not?" Tyrion glanced at his side to notice Ser Gwaine and Jon, with their guards, had stepped up beside him.

"He's not drunk." The bastard of Renly muttered. Jon agreed, his hand wrapped its way around Longclaw while Ghost snarled slightly.

The man turned once again. "You, the red stallion." A burly man with long auburn locks stood. "Lord Jonos Bracken is one of the oldest bannermen to Lord Hoster. Is that still the case?"

The man nodded. "Our Lord Bracken is." Then a man with the Twin Towers of Frey stood up.

"House Frey." The man said, his voice prickly. "How is the old Lord Frey?"

The man blinked. "Well, he is approaching his ninetieth Nameday soon, and he requests for the presence of Lord Hoster Tully. He plans on taking another wife."

Before the man could speak, Tyrion interrupted him. "Unless you are the Blackfish or Lord Hoster himself, or even Lord Edmure; naming the bannermen of House Tully is an insignificant waste of time."

The man bristled. "The Lady Lysa, wife of Lord Jon Arryn, the beloved Hand of the King, has issued a bounty for the reward of the capture of Lord Tyrion the Imp for the murder of the former Lord Hand."

Almost every knight and mercenary stood with their swords unsheathed. "Take them!" The man barked.

"Stand down." Ser Gwaine ordered, with an ugly look on his face. The guards and Jon did so with great reluctance. Tyrion glanced around and he swallowed slightly.

_Oh shit!_

* * *

**Hello, again sorry for yesterday. I promised to have it up by Friday but I completely failed in that endeavor. **

**Saint River – **I know, I wanted to be the first person to write that! Hmm, maybe he will ;) ahaha. I originally wasn't going to, but then I decided, why not? However, after the tournament there is no Darkness among the Stars…

First of all, I meant the reviewer known as 'King', for he was accurate in his assumptions. And secondly, Myrcella is too young and ew, incest. But Melisandre is older and she can give birth. In Arthurian Legend, Morgan is Arthur's half-sister and they have a bastard son, but I couldn't do that, so the Red Lady replaced her.

**Silver Crow - **Arthur has the taste for woman of fire, yes it is his one major weakness, I think. My plan is that Rhaenys and Arthur are to be together, like Rhaenys is already realising that she cannot stop her emotions from stopping her mission; she is becoming emotionally attached to Arthur and evidence of that is during her and Dark Star's scene.

Arthur will indeed be angry for her lies but we will get to that point later on.

**Next Chapter is in Ned's PoV and it is the second half of the Jousting. By the way, did you enjoy the joust? Or not?**


	13. Ned II

**Cold Wind Blows**

_This is an AU of George R.R Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' universe but it will follow, in a way, the plot of the series. The story will integrate the Legend of King Arthur into the story. I do not own anything, nor do I claim to._

**Chapter 13: Tourney: Joust Part 2**

* * *

Ever since his family's arrival in King's Landing, his two daughters had been at each other's throats whenever they were together, which was typically when they ate as a family. It was only Bran's mediator skills that avoided the possibility of a brawl. However, Ned was thankful that they were getting along for the time being. So far they had been discussing the Tournament.

Or rather, at Arya's behest, Sansa was informing her of the events the day before. "Prince Arthur rode well, he and Ser Barristan the Bold broke a lot of lances on each other." Sansa said primly, eating a slice of apple.

Bran nodded cheerfully, nudging Arya who scowled at him. "It was amazing," The young boy said enthusiastically. "Ser Barristan broke near twenty lances on the Prince."

Arya stared at her older sister and younger brother with a slight jealousy. "I wish I could have seen that." She mumbled.

Sansa raised her eyebrow. "Why, where were you?" She questioned and Ned hid a grin when Arya smirked slightly.

"Dancing Lessons." His youngest daughter said. Sansa nodded and returned to her meal.

Ned's thoughts turned to his wilful little she-wolf and he remembered her joy when he had presented her with Syrio Forel, a Master of the Braavosi Water Dance combat style. Eddard believed that Arya would be better suited to this combat style due to her thin, athletic form and also because of the gift Jon had given her; a small, slender blade that matched its wielder and what she had called _Needle_. The blade was not suited to the usual hacking and slashing of Westeros, which is where the fencing style of the Water Dance came in handy.

Eddard glanced at his daughter when Sansa questioned her on the dancing lessons. "What?" Arya asked, snapping out of a daydream.

Sansa rolled her eyes. "I said, are you coming to the Jousting today or your dance lessons?"

Arya shook her head. "The Jousting of course. Father, can I leave?" Eddard smothered a chuckle and nodded.

"Away with you." He said fondly and she ran from the room. Sansa dropped her apple and she glanced at Ned questionably.

"May I be excused?" Sansa asked.

"Of course." Ned said and Sansa disappeared to her room, her shoes clacking along the way. Bran opened his mouth, but Eddard cut him off. "No you cannot, you've hardly touched your food." Ned ate some bacon and some egg before he washed it down with some weak ale, while he watched a grumbling Bran eat some of his own food.

The Hand of the King stood from his chair as Jory entered the room.

"Lord Stark." He greeted cheerfully, gesturing to an unseen man to enter. "Prince Arthur."

The young Black Lion entered the chamber and nodded at Jory. "Will I be seeing you in the Melee?" The Prince asked and Jory glanced at Ned before replying.

"Hopefully, my shoulder's banged up." He said and the Prince chuckled.

"Aye." Jory bowed to them both and left the chamber, leaving the two of them alone. "Lord Stark, Bran." Father and Son returned the greeting with a smile and a reply of 'my Prince', with Bran running off with a cheeky grin moments later.

"Ser Barristan informed me that he has been watching young Bran when he was in the practice yard." Arthur told the Lord Hand, who arched his eyebrow curiously. "He said he may consider taking on Bran as a squire so long as he impresses him in a small melee."

Eddard pondered the information silently. "I hope Bran meets his expectations." He said. "Who will be fighting in the small melee?" The cool eyes of the Alpha Direwolf observed the blue-green eyes of Arthur Baratheon.

"It is a mixture of squires and pages, nothing to be worried about." The Prince said breezily and Eddard nodded once.

"Very well, I suspect the reasoning for your early morn visit is a Council meeting?" The Wolf of Winterfell questioned the young Prince.

"Aye." Arthur said, his hand sliding into an effortless gesture to the door. "Shall we?" Eddard nodded, his eyes distinguishing the fine Valyrian Steel blade of the Black Lion resting on his hip.

"I'm just getting my sword." Eddard said, turning around and grasping the thick leather sword belt and wrapping it around his belt. He moved to the door silently with an equally silent Prince.

Ned's hand slid across the worn leather with practised ease and he buckled it up whilst moving. "Who called the session?" Ned asked after a moment and Arthur glanced up in surprise.

"Uncle Renly did." Arthur replied, his mind seemingly everywhere and nowhere. Ned took this silence to contemplate his children once again.

With the blessings of the Old Gods, mayhaps his children will achieve the life they have always wanted; Queen Sansa, Ser Bran the Brave and the fearsome Warrior-Lady Arya. Sansa was betrothed to Prince Joffrey, the heir apparent of King Robert and Arya was ensuring her combat skills with her tutor, Syrio Forel. Only Bran was left, but Eddard knew that his children were stubborn enough to accomplish their goals. Especially Bran.

His mind tumbled over and it reached a halt at the thought of his other children. Rickon and Robb. And Jon. He never could have believed the generosity that the Prince had garnered for Jon by requesting his cousin, Ser Gwaine, to take him on a as a squire.

But he also knew that it could have been considered a slight to take the baseborn son, instead of the trueborn. Robb, thankfully, hadn't taken the action as a slight to his honour…but Cat did.

She ranted and raged for a good few hours before she finally realised that Jon would no longer be at Winterfell. But her words had sparked a sudden case of 'wolf blood' and Ned knew he had overreacted to her anger.

Ned mentally shook himself, driving away his thoughts for the moment as his eyes drew up, focused and assessed the young man in front of him. The boy bore resemblance to his Father in almost everything; his eyes, his hair colour, his build and his temper, but the rest, Eddard knew, was a lion. His hair was similar to Ser Jaime's, but it was a deep black. He was tall like Robert and he held the strength that the Demon of the Trident had, but he was swift and lithe, his huge form doing nothing to weaken his speed.

He also possessed tremendous spirit if Sansa was to be believed; fighting until the end, until one man was the victor and the other was the loser.

* * *

Ned squashed down his irritation when his eyes drew in and regarded the hulk mass of Janos Slynt, the Commander of the City Watch. The man was frog-faced, with jowls and a bald plate with sweat quivering off of his forehead and nervous wriggling worm fingers.

"It's the Prince's and the Hand's Tourney that's causing all of the commotion my Lords." He began nervously, and Ned was thankful for Arthur narrow interruption.

"I can't have a Nameday celebration?" He mocked, eyes glaring as he sipped a draught of fruit stained water from his goblet.

"I-My Prince," Slynt started but he swallowed his tongue when Renly jeered in.

"My nephew is turning five and ten in a few days. Mayhaps if you do your duty, you may be invited to the feast. My brother, the King, has ordered this Tournament take place."

"I need men!" The man burst out desperately, his cheeks bursting. "The Hand's Tourney-"

"I can assure you," Ned said, leaning forward to peer nearer the frog-faced Commander. "The Hand wants no part in this."

"Call it what you will Lord Stark Ser, the city is packed filled with people and more flooding in every day." The bald man said, his jowls bouncing when he spoke. None of the Lords seemed inclined to break the silence so Janos Slynt did so himself. Lord Eddard pushed himself back into his chair and he pulled a few grapes toward him.

"Last night we had two tavern riots, a mass gang rape, three stabbings and a drunken horse race down the Street of Sisters." The Commander of the Gold Cloaks explained to them and Ned knew he had to do something to keep the King's Peace.

The Eunuch simpered extravagantly. "Dreadful." He shivered. However, Lord Renly was of a different opinion.

"If you can't keep the King's Peace," He said disinterestedly, his hands picking their way to the core of an orange as he did so. "Then clearly, the City Watch needs to be commanded by someone who can. Perhaps by my son, Gwaine."

Ned noticed Arthur offer his Uncle a small smirk. "I don't think Gwaine would want to affiliate himself with corrupt, conceited men." The last words were a jab, Ned noticed, his eyes narrowing as he noticed, through his peripheral vision, the bullfrog like swelling of the Commander of the Gold Cloaks.

He ground his teeth together. "I need more men." Slynt growled, his neck, cheeks and forehead shining with sweat and anger.

"You'll get fifty." Ned decreed, drawing the eyes of the Small Council. "Lord Baelish will see it paid for." He added, as an afterthought.

Littlefinger made a noise of disbelief. "I will?" He asked, and Eddard turned to him, their gazes meeting. The Hand of the King gave the Master of Coin a stern look.

"Aye, you will, you found coin enough for a champions purse." The Quiet Wolf returned his attention back to Slynt. "I will also grant you another twenty of my own Household guard, who will return to me after the Tourney has reached the end of its duration."

"And a few Mercs will love the opportunity to some gold." Arthur added, his eyes meeting Ned's momentarily before they returned to Slynt. "Alas, you will only get twenty-five of them, and like Lord Stark said, I will stop paying them the moment the Tourney ends."

Ned turned his attention away from the man, who parted with a bow, a few whispered words and a swish of his gold cloak. Beside him, Arthur groaned. "I cannot wait until this is over."

Ned chuckled, clearly catching the youth by surprise. "You and I are of similar minds my Prince." He said, draining what remained of his goblet. Arthur smiled and turned his attention from the Lord Hand to a plate of grapes in front of him.

"The realm prospers from such events, my Prince." Lord Varys smiled serenely, his eyes turning from Prince Arthur and Lord Eddard. "They give the great a chance at glory, and the lowly a respite from their woes."

Eddard said nothing; for his mind had flashed suddenly back to a time of his four other pack-mates and Tourney on the edge of the lake of Ava-

"– the whores are walking bow-legged." Petyr Baelish smirked.

Prince Arthur tossed him a look of amusement with borderline disgust. "I'd imagine the whores that are all bow-legged are already here my Lord." He said, and Petyr laughed.

"Why of course, but not in my institute." Littlefinger said with a chuckle.

Ned observed Arthur for a moment as the youth's face tighten sharply. "And certainly not in Chataya's." The Prince declared. "Otherwise my Uncle Tyrion would be none too happy."

Littlefinger bowed his head at that. "Indeed."

Arthur glanced at the window momentarily before he stood abruptly. "Forgive me, my Lords, but the Joust will continue on today, and I would like to be ready for it."

The Small Council stood, and Eddard nodded at the youth. "By your leave, my Prince." But the Prince was gone, his Uncle Renly mirroring his movements out of the door.

"My Lords." Eddard stiffly bowed his head before he set off at a brisk pace to meet up with his daughters.

He found Arya outside his chambers, balancing barefoot upon the stone steps on one foot. "What're you doing?" He asked her and she said nothing at first, but her brow became rigid with concentration.

"Syrio says a water dancer can stand on one toe for hours." She said at last, her voice was strong as she wobbled precariously.

Eddard noticed. "It's a hard fall down these steps." He teased, a small smile on his face.

Arya frowned at him before she replied, her eyes still locked on the wall opposite her position. "Syrio says every hurt is a lesson and every lesson makes you stronger." Ned's smile grew at that, she sounded exactly like Lyanna. "Tomorrow I'm going to be chasing cats."

The Hand of the King shot her a look of befuddlement. "Cats?" He repeated before sighing. "Syrio says…"

Arya nodded, both of her feet rested solidly on the ground. "He says that every swordsman should study cats. They're quiet as shadows and as light as feathers, and that you have to be quick to catch them."

Eddard loosed a chuckle. "He's right about that." He agreed, sitting down and tapping the step beside him. Arya plopped herself down beside him.

"How are your lessons going?" He asked her and she grinned.

"Good Father, I've got lots of bruises. But every hurt is a lesson." She rolled it off her tongue again and Ned nodded.

"Every hurt is a lesson because when you're hurt, you do what you will to prevent it from happening again." He told her and she glanced at him for a moment with silence before she spoke again.

"How come Bran gets to become a squire for Ser Barristan the Bold?" She questioned, staring at him. "I'm much better with a sword than that dollop-head."

Ned laughed and pulled his little She-Wolf into a one armed embrace. "Yes, but one day, Bran will protect the King and your sister, and you will marry a High Lord's son, become the Lady of his home and rule his lands. Your son's will be Knights, and Princes and Lords." Ned said to her with a smile on his face, but she shrugged out of his grip with a narrowed glare on her face.

"But that's not me!" She said, sliding out of his embrace and standing upon the stairs again.

He regarded her for a moment before he sighed. "Arya, go and get dressed, look presentable for the joust." His youngest daughter nodded sharply and he left her to it.

"I'll be back before the hour is up. If you see Bran or Sansa, tell them to get ready too." But Arya made no reply when he left the tower.

* * *

Ned urged his horse forward, directing the palfrey toward the armourer's shop Littlefinger had directed him to. The Hand of the King silently pondered the aid of the Master of Coin, wondering what his game was. Obviously the man wanted to give him help by directing him to Jon Arryn's former squire – now a Knight – and now to a shop Jon had visited several times before his death.

He stopped the palfrey before the shop, his eyes immediately noticing the dark brown courser of Prince Arthur tied up outside of it with a man dressed in simple boiled leather and oiled chainmail guarding the courser and another horse. Beside him, Eddard noted, was Jory grasping the hilt of his blade.

"You shouldn't be out here, my Lord." The boy reminded Lord Eddard of his noble Father, Martyn Cassel, a man who died for him some seventeen odd years ago. For Lyanna. For him. "There's no telling who has eyes where."

But Ned did not particularly care. "Let them look." He said dismissively, his body easily dismounting from his palfrey. "Stay with the horses Jory." Eddard ordered.

"Aye, m'Lord." Jory said, his eyes darting around for signs of a threat. Ned walked into the shop where he immediately noticed Prince Arthur speaking quietly with a young man who was hammering away on a piece of metal.

"My Lord Hand!" Ned noticed the two boys eyes look up, one with silent shock and the other with suspicion when the armourer called his name.

"Tobho Mott?" Ned asked the man shortly, the heat of the forge already getting to him.

The man nodded. "Yes, my Lord, how can I serve you? A new sword perhaps, or armour?"

Ned declined politely. "Actually I was hoping to discuss the comings and goings of the Hand before me, Jon Arryn."

The armourer frowned before it was masked. "Of course my Lord."

Feeling the eyes of Arthur Baratheon on him, Ned turned slightly to glance at the Prince, whose stormy sea coloured eyes narrowed with concentration. "A matter someone brought to me a few hours ago." Ned said, without much preamble. "He told me that Jon Arryn visited this shop quite a few times before his death."

Mott nodded, his eyes once again sharpening with his face. "The former Hand did call on me my Lord, often enough for someone to become suspicious with our interactions." He smiled slightly. "However, I regret to say that he did not honour _me_ with his patronage."

So whom did he come here for, if not yourself Tobho Mott? "What did Lord Arryn want?" Ned asked.

The Armourer shrugged, and a small quirk moved his lips upward. "He always came to see the boy." He said, motioning behind him.

Why would Jon visit this certain armourer, for one boy? It didn't make any sense. "I'd like to see him as well." Eddard said, his mind humming distractedly with the new information.

However, before Mott turned around to address his apprentice, Ned noted the apprehension in his eyes. "As you wish Milord." The man had said before turning around.

'Gendry', as the man called him, turned out a stout young man with bulging muscles and a kind face, which was smeared with soot. "Here he is!" The Armourer displayed with a hand wave. "Strong for his age and he works hard." Tobho Mott's words were for Gendry now.

"Show the King's Hand the helm you made, lad." Gendry shot his Master a look before he complied, retrieving a shiny, well-made helm of steel in the shape of a bull.

"A bull?" Ned questioned, his hands accepting the offered armour piece.

"Our Gend is quite the bull-headed blacksmith." Arthur Baratheon's voice sounded, as the body of the Prince stood side by side with Gendry.

Ned acknowledged him with a nod. "Prince Arthur."

"Just getting my armour re-fitted." The Prince said, his eyes narrowing. "I do so hope you're not here to babysit dear old me?" He said scornfully and Ned's gaze became as sharp as Valyrian steel.

"No," He said before he turned back to Gendry. "This is fine work." He praised.

But the youth rose up, his jaw jutted out in slight defiance. "It's not for sale." Arthur Baratheon laughed boisterously. This only enraged the Armourer.

A hand collided with the back of Gendry's head. "Boy, this is the Hand of the King!" But the youth shook his head. He reminded Ned of a young Robert. "If his Lordship wants the helmet-"

"I made it for me." Gendry insisted stubbornly, much to the apparent amusement of Arthur Baratheon.

The old armourer, Mott, looked appalled. "Forgive him, my Lord." He said his eyes wide and pleading. Ned chuckled and waved away the apology.

"There's nothing to forgive. When Lord Arryn came to visit you, what would you talk about?" Lord Eddard gave Gendry his full, undivided attention, which just seemed to make the youth even more nervous.

"He just asked me questions is all, my Lord."

"What kind of questions?" Eddard probed gently, his mind recognising the departure of Prince Arthur, with a wave of black and gold.

Gendry and Mott's shared look didn't escape the notice of Lord Eddard Stark and he arched his brow, awaiting the answer.

"About my work at first, if I was being treated well, if I liked it here." Gendry started before he paused to share one look with a blank faced Mott. "But then he started asking me about my mother."

That comment certainly struck the Wolf Lord as funny. _Jon was married, and had a child. He was too old to engage in whoring and too honourable to take on a mistress, so why was he asking about this boy's mother?_ The Hand of the King frowned at that. "Your mother?"

Gendry nodded in an explanatory way. "Who she was, and what she looked like." Gendry said, his eyes moving around in a nervous manner.

The crisp eyes of the Stark Lord observed the young armourer thoroughly. "What did you tell him?"

"She died when I was little." The boy told him, shuffling his feet. "She – had yellow hair…she'd sing to me sometimes." Eddard ignored how emotional the boy became and his mind screamed at the word yellow. Blonde, yellow, golden. It was different shades of the same colour.

While his mind worked away, the eyes of Lord Eddard had noticed how jumpy Gendry became, and the Northern Lord's mind retreated back twenty years ago when Jon Arryn had reprimanded Robert for siring a bastard. The young Robert had shuffled about like this.

The thought struck him as well as a mental slap for not recognising King Robert's bastard son. "Look at me." He said sharply, his mind screaming for evidence of his mental claim. The boy looked at him and that was proof enough. _He is identical to Prince Arthur and Ser Gwaine._ "Get back to work, lad." Eddard ordered gently and he watched the boy return to the forge. He unveiled a heavy looking hammer and brought it down on the metal.

Almost silently, to Mott, Ned said, "If the day ever comes when that boy'd rather wield a sword than forge one," Eddard's eyes seared a gaze on the elder armourer's. "Then you send him to me." The Armourer turned to Gendry, who had somehow heard the comment, and then Mott turned around with a grimaced promise.

Ned walked outside with a troubled look on his face. _Why would Jon track down King Robert's bastards' after obtaining that book?_ Somehow, Ned knew the answer was looking him in the eye. "Find anything?" Jory called as Ned drew himself up onto his palfrey.

He opened his mouth to speak, but someone beat him to the punch. "Aye, he found one of my Father's numerous bastards." Arthur Baratheon leaned upon his courser, who nickered and bobbed its great head. "Gendry's a friend, and he's got eyes on him. I wouldn't attempt to come back down here to visit him again my Lord." With those parting words and a sharp look, the soon to be five-and-ten lad sealed shut his saddlebags and returned to the shop.

Jory made a noise and Eddard shot him a warning look. "Jory." He said as he urged his palfrey into a trot up the Street of Steel.

* * *

The sun had been beating down incessantly when Ned finally reached the tourney stadium with both of his daughters. Bran had been nowhere to find, and no wonder, Ned thought as he watched the boy lifting up Prince Arthur's lance. Beside him, tied to a post was the Prince's courser.

"What is Bran doing?" Arya asked, her eyes watching as Prince Arthur left the confines of his tent armoured up. He ruffled Bran's hair and untied the reins from the post.

"He seems to be attending to Prince Arthur as if he was a squire." Sansa spoke up her eyes watching the scene with her little brother and the gallant brother of her beloved Prince Joffrey with delicate interest.

Eddard watched with detached interest as Prince Arthur took out Thoros of Myr who had previously defeated Lord Beric Dondarrion and as Ser Gregor Clegane wiped out a mystery knight and killed Ser Hugh of the Vale.

That sparked a sudden curiosity in Ned, as the Hand of the King had requested to speak to Jon Arryn's former squire after today's part of the joust. Mayhaps a spy of the Queen's had observed the interaction between Jory and Ser Hugh a few hours prior.

The tourney went on, after they moved the body away from the tilts and into a tent.

Ser Jaime Lannister defeated Ser Barristan the Bold, much to the protest of Bran who had cheered on his champion with vigour. Yesterday the Kingslayer had defeated two other men, Ser Andon Royce and Lord Bryce Caron. His reign with the lance would have been easy after he had defeated his remaining opponents.

Prince Arthur had defeated Jaime after a good number of tilts, much to pleasure of the spectators who were rooting for the Prince.

Loras Tyrell was already making a name for himself with his victory against three of the Kingsguard; Ser Meryn, Ser Preston and Ser Boros. The Knight of Flowers had come close to defeat against Ser Meryn at one point before he managed to knock the Kingsguard over the back of his horse and into the dirt.

The Hound fought well, besting two hedge knights Eddard did not know the name of and Lord Renly Baratheon. However, he was defeated in spectacular fashion by a youth whose sigil was one Eddard was intimately familiar with; a star shooting past a great sword. However, the colouring was wrong; this had a black star shooting past a silver sword on a field of midnight purple.

His coat of arms had induced the shouts of '_Darkstar'_ from the lowborn spectators. The man had brought the Hound to his knees, as he had a hedge knight and Lord Jason Mallister.

The day ended with the mixture of approval and displeasure of the onlookers, lowborn or highborn.

The semi-finals, the King had declared, would take place on the morrow, bright and early. Eddard could see Robert's point as it was nearing dusk when he had called for the joust to finish. He had accompanied his children to their quarters in the Tower of the Hand when he came across Ser Barristan.

"Lord Stark." The famous Knight had said, stopping the Northern family from proceeding up into the tower.

"Ser Barristan." Bran said and the Knight bested Eddard's son with a smile.

"May we speak Lord Stark?" His request had been accepted and Ned sent each of his children to bed, although he knew Bran would not sleep a wink until he had been informed of the topic of discussion between Ser Barristan and himself.

"Do you want some wine Lord Commander?" Ned asked as he sat down at his desk with Ser Barristan opposite him.

"No thank you my Lord." He declined the offer politely. "I am here to propose the offer of being my squire to your son Bran on the morrow, with your consent."

"The consent I suspect you are gaining now?" Ned questioned and the elderly man smiled ruefully.

"Aye."

Ned looked into the eyes of the Lord Commander. "It would be cruel to reject the one thing my son desires the most." He said at last with a tired smile. "You have my permission."

The elderly Lord Commander of the Kingsguard bowed and parted company with a small smile. _Bran will be overjoyed, Sansa will be proud and Arya … would be,_but Ned shook himself and stopped thinking of his youngest daughter's reaction. He turned to the bed before he sighed and slowly removed the armour that donned his body.

The King's Hand unpinned the badge of office that was stuck into the breast of his leather overcoat. The golden pin with a hand of metal, finger pointing down had been the badge of office to all of the Hands' of the Kings' since Aegon's Landing almost three hundred years-ago. The pointing finger descended into the spike that he poked through his clothing to show the people of King's Landing the badge of the Hand.

Ned sighed and dropped the badge on his desk before he turned to the bed and sunk down on it.

Out of nowhere, a voice called. _"Promise me, Ned … promise me!" _It said, with the voice of his dear sister. Ned shuddered and rolled over, but sleep eluded him until the next morning.

* * *

Four combatants were in the semi-finals of the joust; Darkstar, the Mountain, the Knight of Flowers and the Black Lion. Eddard noted the herald had informed spectators on who will be jousting first.

Luckily for some, Prince Arthur and Darkstar were scheduled to break the lances against one another. However, unluckily for Prince Arthur, Littlefinger and Renly, Darkstar won after fifteen tilts. Each tilt severely weakened the other man, with lances breaking every time they collided.

Eddard watched as the Prince fell from his horse where he lay still. He also knew that himself, the King and the younger Prince and Princess jumped to their feet when Arthur hit the floor, only to breathe a sigh of relief when the Prince slowly staggered to his feet and shoving his helm of his head.

For seconds no one moved as the Prince glared at his usurper and stalked from the tilts with a storm of anger hovering over his head.

The sudden awkwardness increased tenfold when the Mountain Who Rides tumbled off of the back of his stallion on behalf of the perfectly placed lance by the Knight of Flowers. The cheers went up but the atmosphere gave way to cries of shock and disgust when the huge, monstrous great sword of the Mountain sloppily decapitated the stallion at the base of the neck.

The blood spurted out and covered the monster of a man, which reminded Ned of a night seventeen years ago when he was a young man and had arrived just shortly after the Sack of King's Landing. The Mountain pressed on for Ser Loras, the mighty sword snapping across the air and bouncing of the hastily placed block by the Knight of Flowers.

However, the blow forced the young Knight to the floor, where he grasped fruitlessly at his shield and his only line of defence against the hulking mass of Ser Gregor Clegane.

"Enough." The Hound rasped, his voice cringing through the air. Ned saw him rush past him, shouting "Enough!"

The Mountain went to strike but it was blocked by the Hound's blade. With an enraged shout, Gregor shoved his brother's sword away from him and the two snarling dogs stared one another down as Ser Loras swiftly took flight, fleeing the territory of the huge armoured dogs.

"He's had enough!" Sandor spat, raising his sword as Gregor swung in a rage.

The brother's exchanged blows and Ser Gregor very nearly decapitated his younger brother when King Robert Baratheon stood, his lungs bellowing out loud words.

"STOP THIS MADNESS IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!" He roared, his voice startling Gregor out of his maddened rage and causing the Hound to kneel.

The blade of the Mountain whistled harmlessly passed his brother's head and he threw the sword to the floor with a growl and an insolent look at Robert. "Let him go!" Robert ordered Ser Arys and Ser Mandon, two of the Kingsguard who laid their hands on their swords.

Ned whispered some orders to Septa Mordane, who nodded, and then he left the tourney grounds with haste.

* * *

Ned was perched over the large _Lineage_ book when Prince Arthur entered the room. "Lord Stark."

He rubbed his tired eyes as he leant back in his chair. "Prince Arthur, I am sorry for your loss in today's tournament."

Arthur shrugged at the comment. "There is always the Melee, and I've won every one I've been in." He replied and Ned sighed, rubbing his face again.

"Why are you here?" Ned asked and Arthur regarded him with queer interest.

"I'm here to explain my comments from earlier today. My Mother's spies are everywhere looking for rumours of my Father's bastards." Ned said nothing, merely allowing the Prince to talk.

"Did you know that my Father sired twins in the Westerlands?" Eddard admitted that he did not, but he wouldn't put it past Robert to have more than two bastards in the West.

"My Mother, or someone under her orders, cut their throats while their mother watched. When they were done tormenting the mother, they raped her, before leaving a few coppers in her care." Arthur glanced up at him at that and Eddard knew that his expression was one of disgust.

"The children were barely old enough to know they were bastards. I don't want the same to happen to Gendry."

"You're close to him?" He asked and Arthur laughed.

"Quite, it is because of me that he is an apprentice." He told him. Eddard was certainly confused.

"He didn't know who his Father was, and he was misguided with that. But when he and I stood side by side when I was three-and-ten, his armourer recognised the resemblance. Gendry knows that he is a bastard son of the King but now he doesn't care." Prince Arthur explained and Eddard grew wary.

"And why are you telling me this?" He asked an Arthur scoffed.

"Did you know my Uncle Renly won't tell Gwaine who his mother was?" Arthur returned and Eddard felt uneasiness rise up inside of him. "And I think I remember you telling your son, Jon, that you would inform him of his mother when you next see him?"

Eddard opened his mouth to speak but Arthur cut across him. "Just remember that life is too short to keep such secrets from your blood." Arthur took a deep breath. "Tell Jon upon his return and maybe that will make him less broody, Gods' know he needs to lose some of his dour self, less he wishes to be like my Uncle Stannis."

With that said, the Black Lion rose and left the solar. "Maybe I will." Ned whispered, his eyes staring at the flames. _But I made a promise._

* * *

**Whew! Finally, it feels like I've been at this for months; that took the p***! Pardon my language.**

**How are you all doing? Good? Good! Are you all having a great Easter? I hope you are. **

**Next Chapter is Arthur's PoV once more!**

**By the way, when Ned 'Ffth!' do you think I should have a Robb Stark PoV?**

**Saint River –** I'm glad you agree! I think that Tyrion has corrupted Jon a tad, and I think he genuinely liked 'Bess' but he left her with child more to annoy Lady Catelyn than anything.

**Guest – **Good point, I am unsure on whether or not I mentioned it. Cersei doted on her children, but good ol' Joff got the most of her attentions. The fact that Arthur lost his 'innocence' by killing men would distraught Cersei, and so she has turned her undivided attention to her Golden Lions. Although she still loves him, Cersei views Arthur as a lost cause. The next chapter about the Imp and the Bastards two will be Chapter 15, in Jon's PoV.

Thank you for the blunt words of encouragement! I plan to have my chapters longer from now on!

**King –** Ask me no questions, and I shall tell you no lies! ;)


	14. Prince Arthur III

**Cold Wind Blows**

_This is an AU of George R.R Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' universe but it will follow, in a way, the plot of the series. The story will integrate the Legend of King Arthur into the story. I do not own anything, nor do I claim to._

**Chapter 14: Dreams of Wisdom**

* * *

He knew it was well within his right to be angry at Darkstar for unhorsing him, and Arthur knew he had disappointed his Father and he knew he wouldn't be elevated to the rank of a Knight. A title which he coveted.

He had disappeared for a good few hours before he returned to his chambers to find Ariana laying in his bed and slowly consuming a few grapes. She appeared to have already eaten, as there was a platter of various assortments of meat and bread and fruit.

While he ate some meat, she told him of the rest of the tourney, although she was extremely hesitant when mentioning Darkstar. Arthur wondered if that was in fear of his reaction, or fear of the Knight. _A dragonstreak_, Arthur was well aware of Darkstar's hair colour and the Prince wandered if, perhaps, the Knight had touched his lover.

He discovered that the man who unhorsed him was praised by Joffrey for some time, even more so when he defeated Ser Loras to win the joust.

Because the joust had finished early, the King had called for the small melee for young squires and pages, which consisted of four squires and five pages, and Bran Stark. Arthur was quite impressed with the determination the young wolf cub displayed, which Ariana had said was reminiscent of the stories of Ned Stark in Robert's Rebellion.

Arthur had said that it was more than likely Bran Stark was now the squire for Ser Barristan the Bold.

But now, Arthur wasn't in the realm of the awoken, rather he was in the realm of the deep sleep. And his dreams occupied his lover, and himself.

_He was watching from the side lines as an older version of himself, with a beard and wild hair stood over a table in a darkened are. A tent, Arthur realised._

"_You would pay attention to pieces instead of your naked wife?" Ariana's voice questioned through the tent, prompting the calmness of Arthur's gaze to move up at his lover._

"_Rhaenys," He said. "You know I must." His eyes held amusement but all Arthur felt was confusion. Rhaenys? Rhaenys was not the name, he knew, of his lover. Ariana was not Rhaenys. Her birthmark though, just under her left breast, was prominent enough for Arthur to see._

_But the man seemed so sure. "Arthur!" The dream had frozen at the sound of the deep, rumbling voice. Dream-Arthur and Dream-Rhaenys (Ariana) were gone from the darkened area._

_The setting changed and he was standing upon an island; he didn't understand how he knew he was on an island, but he just did. The sun was beating down languidly and he heard the voice call his name again but, Arthur rationalised, a voice cannot come from the waters surrounding the small island. _

"_Arthur!" It called and he approached with apprehension. "Arthur!"_

_The water frothed and bubbled and he stood, paralysed by the roots of curiosity as the water weaved and splashed into a height of five feet. And slowly, the water solidified, manifesting into the body of a comely woman with purple eyes and midnight black hair. "Arthur!" She called, her voice transforming from the loud, wise baritone to a voice that matched her slender body. _

"_Who are you?" Arthur asked, his eyes gleaming under the sunlight. _

_The woman smiled. "My name is of no consequence, my King." She said. 'King?'_

"_I am no King." Arthur replied, he sounded confident enough in the declaration. "And I asked you what your name was."_

_Laughter was delivered by the woman, from her mouth and to his ears. "Names are of no importance here, titles however…" She said with a sly smile. "You haven't changed one bit. I am, simply, the Lady of the Lake, and you are Arthur, the Once and Future King."_

_Arthur glared at her. "I am no King. I am second in line." The woman laughed again._

"_Oh my King, how wrong you are." She said, with a sudden haunting look on her face. "You died here, on the island of Avalon, where you shall be reborn."_

_He didn't know what to reply with, other than, "You're mad!" The self-dubbed, Lady of the Lake laughed._

"_No, I am not mad. I am quite sane…" Her voice then changed as the sudden emotion of fear took root on her flawless face. "Listen closely, my King, when there is a time when you are trapped, held down in the darkness and separated by iron bars, you will find the strength to escape." _

_Arthur opened his mouth but she shut him out, continuing the one-sided conversation. "When you vanish the iron bars and discover the Truth, under a coronation of Red and Gold, seek out the Isle of the Blessed and speak 'Myrddin' to gain a long lost friend." _

_Arthur opened his mouth but she shushed him. "Now leave my King, I will await your return." The Prince gave a shriek when she exploded into a thousand water droplets._

He shot up, panting. His eyes darted to the side and Ariana was not there. He could have sworn that she had fallen asleep there.

His window was open, the silk sheets blowing with the wind and moonlight poured through it, highlighting his chest, glistening with sweat. He eased his breathing to a normal sound and he stood, allowing the bedsheets to drop to reveal his nakedness to the empty room.

Arthur rummaged around for a set of breeches, boots and a white tunic. He walked to the window and glanced out, his eyes roaming for the tell-tale sign of torches in the night.

Arthur hummed satisfyingly and he closed the window with a dull thud and exited his room with small steps. He darted and weaved, turning left and right, before he came to a stop in an abandoned part of Maegor's Holdfast, the location of the chambers which used to belong to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Arthur glanced around, before he turned to the first tapestry on his right, which depicted hunting and stags, the debridement of the former Targaryen tapestries his Mother once told him about.

He moved it aside with his hand and stepped through, his eyes unaware of the purple gaze from the slightly ajar door of Prince Rhaegar. The tapestry covered a staircase that lead to the very top of Maegor's Holdfast, and allowing a dragon's eye view of King's Landing and the Red Keep.

Rumour had it, from servants who had served under the Targaryen's that Prince Rhaegar's music used to be heard from atop the Holdfast. As he activated the hidden doorway, pushing the nearby torch into the wall where it ignited immediately, he wandered how the former Prince had been able to do so without alerting the numerous servants that scurry about Red Keep at night.

The wall rumbled and shook, as a gathering of dust pervaded the air and Arthur entered the passageway, one of the thousand's created by Maegor the Cruel. He easily traced the steps up to the top of the tower.

As soon as he reached the top, however, he wished he had brought a cloak with him, for the breeze was chilly and cut coldly.

Arthur sat in the perfect crevice that blocked the winds of the sea and presented him with one of the greatest views known to man, except perhaps the Wall.

As he sat, and night turned to day, his mind flitted around, analysing and breaking down the context of the dream.

_I called her Rhaenys. Ariana._ He thought, his mind was still reeling from that vision.

_An older version of me, perhaps she was somebody else… But Rhaenys was Ariana, and Princess Rhaenys had not been found after the defeat of Rhaegar on the Trident._

_He knew his Grandfather had ordered his two rabid dogs to kill Rhaegar's children to allow his Lord Father, Robert, to ascend to the Throne, but the littlest Princess had escaped and Aegon was slaughtered and Ser Amory Lorch and the Mountain brutally raped Elia of Dorne before beheading her._

_But these were facts well known throughout the Kingdoms._

_So why, in a probable vision of the future, did he call the woman he…loved…by the name of a former Targaryen Princess. _

_Could she, mayhaps, be the long lost Princess? If so, why was she here? For revenge, to take out the sins of the Father on the Son? To hurt his Father? To get rev-_

"No." Arthur whispered, she couldn't do that, wouldn't. He was overthinking things, but was he imagining the dream? He really didn't want to know.

* * *

Arthur was not in a good mood. He had been unable to locate Ariana all day and now his Father was ordering him around as if he was an idiot.

His current task was to find Lords Baelish and Varys. And indeed he did; the duo were standing in the Throne room talking to themselves. And Arthur unintentionally took his frustrations out on the two.

"What in Seven Hells are you two conspiring about?" He demanded as he stepped closer and the two adopted a friendly look.

"Prince Arthur-" Varys started but Arthur tossed him an irritable growl and glare.

"Hurry up about it, my Father's called a session!" He said with a pivot of his heel, and his feet drawing his body across the chamber to the Small Council's meeting room.

"The King's coming to a Small Council meeting?" Baelish called, his eyes widened a touch, but Arthur paid him no mind, knowing that Varys would, no doubt, inform him of the discovery.

_Daenerys Targaryen, married to one of the greatest Khal's in Dothraki history, and with child._

He ignored his Father as he took the King's seat and called, or rather, bellowed for wine and food. The rest of the Council followed, taking their seats. Ser Barristan stood in the corner of the room, his helm adorned his head and he was ordered not to comment by the King. His Father refused to speak after that; he clearly preferred waiting for Ned Stark before he spoke.

His desire was granted when Ned Stark arrived. The King's eyes fixed directly when he spoke. "The Whore is pregnant." He snarled, his eyes glaring into Ned's calm gaze.

"Who, my King?" Ser Barristan asked warily.

"Daenerys Targaryen." King Robert spat. He hadn't stopped staring at Lord Stark.

The Hand blinked. "You're speaking of murdering a child." He said shortly, his eyes gazing back into the furious, fat stag.

"I warned you this would happen." King Robert growled, not giving an inch. "Back in the North, I warned you, but you didn't care to hear. So hear it now." Ned shot Arthur a glance, the King's favourite son who was sitting beside him, and the glance was plead for help.

"I want 'em dead, this Horse Lord, his whore and the child – and that fool, Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you? I want them all dead!" The King went on.

Arthur returned the look to Lord Eddard, his eyes were darting between the King and his Hand.

"Please Robert, you will dishonour yourself forever if you do this." Arthur knew his Father was going to explode. If the kitchen wenches were to be believed, the older ones that were alive seventeen years ago during the Sack, Robert Baratheon smiled at the corpses of Princess Elia and her babe. He was already dishonoured.

"Honour?!" The King roared, jumping to his feet and bowling over his chair. "I've got Seven Kingdoms to rule!" He spat, spittle flying across the table. Arthur stood up at this point, ready to break up any fight that may happen between Lord Stark and his Father.

The King closed his fist and raised his index finger. "One King and Seven Kingdoms!" A sneer wrapped its way around the King. "Do you think its honour that keeps them in line? Do you think its honour keeping the peace? It's fear – fear and blood."

Arthur felt his own face drain at the Wolf Lord's next words, something he noticed his Father's doing. "Then we're no better than the Mad King." Ned Stark said, his voice as cold as ice.

"Careful, Ned. Careful now." The King spat, his colour returning and his anger rising even more.

Lord Eddard scoffed. "You want to assassinate a girl...because the Spider heard a rumour?" He asked, his eyes sharpened and his facial expression was challenging; daring anyone to contradict him.

The 'Spider' in question sniffed with a smile. "No rumour, my Lord." He said, before he turned to the King. "The Princess is with child."

"Former Princess." Arthur interrupted with a chilled look. "Who whispered that particular tale I wonder? Lord Varys." He prompted, his eyebrow raised.

The Eunuch smiled. "Ser Jorah Mormont is exchanging information for a pardon. He is serving as advisor to the Targaryen siblings."

"Mormont?" Lord Stark glared when the words were spat from his mouth. "You bring us the whispers of a traitor half a world away and call it fact?"

"Jorah Mormont's a slaver, not a traitor." Lord Baelish said with a smirk at Lord Eddard. "Small difference, I know, to an honourable man."

Arthur rolled his eyes at that, of course Lord Baelish would get a jab in at the Wolf Lord. Littlefinger has always loved Catelyn Tully, and hated the Starks. His Mother had told Joffrey and himself of the tale a while back.

"He broke the law, betrayed his family, and fled our land." Ned returned, glaring at the Master of Coin. "We commit murder on the word of this man?"

"And if he's right? If she has a son?" King Robert demanded of his Hand. "A Targaryen at the head of a Dothraki army ...What then?"

Arthur racked his brain for the lessons Maester Pycelle had taught him of the Horse Lords. He ignored the conversation momentarily while he remembered his lessons.

"– shores? You're my council. Counsel! Speak sense to this honourable fool." His Father's voice brought him back to the Council meeting, but still, the Black Lion's mind worked furiously to gather the knowledge he had of the savages of Essos.

"I understand your misgivings, my Lord. Truly, I do." The Master of Whispers simpered. "It is a terrible thing we must consider, a vile thing." He paused momentarily to smile disturbingly at Lord Eddard as if he was berating him. "Yet, we who presume to rule must sometimes do vile things for the good of the realm. Should the gods grant Daenerys a son, the realm will bleed." Having said his peace, the Spider sat back and tucked his hands into his lavender smelling robes.

Pycelle nodded at the Eunuch in agreement. "I bear this girl no ill will, but should the Dothraki invade, how many innocents will die? How many towns will burn? Is it not wiser, kinder even?" The Old Maester added, his voice stretching with use. "That she should die now so that tens of thousands might live?"

Arthur could see where the Old Maester's point was coming from, but the words were his Grandfather's. Lord Tywin was obsessed with legacy. His blood resides in the heir to the Iron Throne and his family is closely tied to the royal family. The Targaryen's were a threat to that lineage.

"We should have had them both killed years ago." Renly said bluntly, his hand reaching for some fruit. Arthur thought that his Uncle sounded like a child who lusted for battle.

And of course the ever so proper Lord Baelish added a sexual innuendo in his advice. "When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman," The Master of Coin said, ignoring the slight groan from the Prince "Best to close your eyes, get it over with."

His eyes reached Lord Eddard's. "Cut her throat and be done with it."

Arthur cleared his throat, drawing the eyes to him. "I am of a mind with Lord Stark, Father." He said and Robert glared at him. "The Dothraki fear any water that their horses can't drink from, and they are called Horse Lords for a reason." The Prince said, his eyes flickering from eye to eye until they rested on his Father's deep blue.

"If they were to invade the Seven Kingdoms, they would have to take their horses with them, which means they would require quite a lot of ships just to do so. And a Dothrakan has never traversed the Narrow Sea, so they would be disorientated. They'd be slaughtered the minute they land."

The King glared at his second born again. "She dies." He said.

"But Father!" Arthur said, interrupting the King when his mouth opened. "The Dothraki only bend the knee to strength. This Khal won his Khalasar with show of strength. The title of Khal is not passed from Father to Son, but it is won. The babe isn't strong. Leave them be for the time being."

"No," His Father replied, his anger heavy in his voice. "Those dragonspawn will die!"

Arthur returned the glare of his Father, but he stayed silent. He knew his Father had no qualms about hitting him.

"I followed you into war - twice - without doubts, without second thoughts. But I will not follow you now." Lord Eddard pressed his palms into the table and glared at Robert. "The Robert I grew up with didn't tremble at the shadow of an unborn child."

"She dies." The King insisted. Arthur watched as Ned nodded at him, a dejected look on his hardened face.

"Then I will have no part in it." The Warden of the North said imperviously.

"You're the King's Hand, Lord Stark." His Father said. "You'll do as I command or I'll find me a hand who will." Arthur watched in silent awe when Lord Stark removed the Hand of the King pin and dropped it in front of his Father.

"And good luck to him." Ned Stark said with a small, barely noticeable smile on his face. "I thought you were a better man." He added, almost silently.

King Robert stared for a moment. "Out," He whispered. "Out, out. Out! Out, damn you!" His voice became louder each time he spoke. "I'M DONE WITH YOU!" The former Hand turned around with a nod and departed the chamber.

"Go! Run back to Winterfell! I'll have your head on a spike!" The King roared, his hands waving.

"I'll put it there myself, you fool! You think you're too good for this? Too proud and too honourable? This is a war!"

The King cursed and roared, before he heaved the table over and watched as it hit the floor.

The Small Council backed up, but the King froze and turned around slowly to glare vehemently at Arthur.

"Save the dragonspawn?" The King said. "My flesh and blood supporting those incest born bastards?!"

Arthur glared at him. "If you kill the Khal's wife and child, he'll want revenge." Arthur sneered. "If you sentence the death of two or even three…" He shook his head, trailing off.

Lord Varys piped up. "This Khal Drogo has over 40,000 Dothraki screamers, his Khalasar is the greatest among the Khals. He is one of the most feared and respected, your Grace, no man will attempt to assassinate him."

"And then the deaths of thousands will be on you." The Black Lion said with a glare.

"Get out. Out!" The King bellowed at his second born and Arthur bowed his head stiffly as he left the chamber, without much complaint.

He could still hear is Father roaring and cursing.

* * *

He had found his Mother and younger brother and sister in the gardens of the Red Keep. Myrcella and Tommen were having fun and playing with their toys while his Mother watched.

"Mother." Arthur greeted the Lioness with a small bow. His Mother smiled at him.

"Hello Arthur." She said, and he perched himself down beside her. "I heard about the Small Council meeting and the disagreement that you had with your Father."

Arthur nodded as he and his Mother observed his younger siblings laughing and giggling. "A little bird told me about how you were in favour of leaving the remaining Targaryen's alone." She said, finally turning to face Arthur.

Her second-born nodded. "Aye," He said. "They're on the other side of the world, Mother, we have nothing to worry about."

"Yet." She countered, smiling slightly. "But you do have a point."

"It doesn't matter, Father does what he wishes." He said and she laughed airily.

"He's wilful. Just like your brother." She said, glancing at him. She sighed at his scowl.

"My beautiful Black Lion. You're Brother and you have quarrelled for too long. It is time for a reconciliation." She said and Arthur scowled at her.

"I'll make you a deal." He said, facing his Mother now. Her emerald eyes clashed with his own stormy sea irises. "I will consider reconciliation with Joff when you do so with Tyrion."

His Mother looked away. "No." Arthur nodded.

"And there's my answer." He said as he stood, walking over to his younger siblings, rubbing the worn leather band on his arm.

* * *

**Whoa! Bet you all can't wait for the first episode of Season 5 tonight! (Unless you've already seen them!)**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and I will try to update again, later on for you!**

**Next Chapter will be concluding the capture of Tyrion on the Kingsroad. **

**Master of Dragons God – **Thank you, and you will!

**War Sage – **Thank you so much!

**Saint River – **I'm glad you enjoyed it, it took forever to finish! I hope you think this one is detailed too. The Joust difficult to write using the medieval terms for it. I got confused when writing it a good few times and no website was detailed in explaining it.

Gendry is aware of them being related, obviously, and he may join their party. However, Arthur won't be in King's Landing when Barra is … you know….

And this way, he'll meet Arya.

**GuardianOfTheUniverse – **Thank you!

**King – **I am looking forward to reading about the knowledge first-hand! Bronn? I couldn't agree more.

**My Lord Doctor6735 – **Thank you for reading, reviewing and liking this story! And you probably aren't the only one to be expressing about the lack of Dany PoV. Basically, Dany's storyline is much the same in _A Game of Thrones_ and Season 1.


	15. Jon Snow III

**Cold Wind Blows**

_This is an AU of George R.R Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' universe but it will follow, in a way, the plot of the series. The story will integrate the Legend of King Arthur into the story. I do not own anything, nor do I claim to._

**Chapter 15: Blood at the Gate**

* * *

For days now, Jon and his companions had been forced to ride their horses tied up and gagged. They were on route to the Bloody Gate of the Vale. Their captors, numerous members of both House Whent, House Arryn and House Bracken had accompanied them, alongside several Mercenaries.

But now, they stopped, for the first time since they left the Inn. "The 'Orses are knackered." One said. "Best t' rest 'em now."

"Nay." The other disagreed. "We can kill them and walk; we're running out of food."

"So long as there's plenty o' wine, we'll be fine." The Sellsword, who traded his room for a two gold dragons, spoke.

"We'll make camp here." Their captor said. The man wandered around, rolling out bedrolls and setting fires. "Take them down and ungag them." He ordered and Jon unhooked his feet from the stirrups and slid off the side of Lyanna, his courser. He felt someone untying the gag around his mouth and glanced around. Mikel and Shorn, Guards of Winterfell, were gaining the same treatment and he glanced around looking for the familiar white fur of his Direwolf, but he couldn't find it.

And then he had remembered why; he had sent Ghost away after the man had attempted to kill his beloved Direwolf. Ghost ripped out the throats of four men before Jon ordered him away. His face was bruised and twisted for it. The guards confiscated their weapons and Jon looked at the man who had clipped Longclaw on his belt, looking smug with Valyrian steel.

He told the men, in a drunken stupor a few days past, that in addition to the money he was going to receive of capturing the Imp, he was going to sell the blade to Tywin Lannister, a man who had long since desired a Valyrian steel replacement sword for his ancestral sword.

But Jon was going to take it from him.

As luck would have it, the Hill Tribes of the Vale attacked within the night. Jon awoke to Ghost licking his face, after the Direwolf had chewed his bonds. He glanced around and noticed Tyrion and the Sellsword speaking together, while Gwaine slept next to him.

"Gwaine." He whispered, giving the sleeping man a shove. "Wake up." He glanced back at Ghost.

The last time he had been acting like this was when he was up at Castle Black, during the attack on the Lord Commander, Jeor Mormont. Jon knew to trust the instincts of his canine companion.

"Wake him up Ghost." Jon ordered, his voice very nearly silent.

Jon rolled onto his front, into a crawling position; he slid across the floor rather like a snake, and found the man who had claimed Longclaw as his own, wrapped tightly in a blanket. Beside him, still in its scabbard was Longclaw. Jon grabbed it and, out of the corner of his eyes, realised Gwaine was mimicking him; looking for his own blade. Together, Master and Apprentice retreated back to their former location, where they could not be seen all that good.

They clipped their belts on tied them down, and buckled them accordingly. "Hill Tribes?" Jon ventured and Ser Gwaine nodded.

"Aye, most probably." He replied and Jon cursed silently.

"We need to get Tyrion. Maybe we can get away in the confusion." Jon said, his mind working strategically.

"Maybe." Gwaine agreed, before glancing at the horses. "I doubt we'd get very far with those horses."

Jon opened his mouth to reply when rocks whistled into the camp, hitting men and causing them to groan. "WE'RE BEING ATTACKED!" One of them roared, the roar shattering the silent night as the Hill Tribes replied with a battle cry that certainly woke the camp up.

Men scrambled for cover against the rocks, drawing shields and swords and crossbows as they did so. Jon and Gwaine dispatched several of their attacker's as they made their way to Tyrion.

The Imp now held a shield and he was using it to block the blades and axes of two different men. Jon decapitated one of them, the strength of his blow slicing to bone, sinew and wood as he carved the axe in two. The Sellsword raptured the throat of the other. Glancing around, Jon noticed that he was seeing and moving faster than those around him.

He remembered his Father telling Robb and himself about battle fever. It was extraordinary. He blocked the blow of a rudimentary steel sword and traded fast blows for slow blows against the warrior. He hacked at the blade and the man moved his wrist to the side, which gave Jon the opening.

He slashed the veins on the wrist of his sword hand and the man dropped the blade with a tortured screech. Jon buried Longclaw in the man's forehead and he held him until he stopped quivering.

A yell sounded from behind him and he heard a growl. He glanced around and noticed that Ghost had mauled the man who would've snuck up on him.

He kicked the body from the blade and turned around, sword at the ready. Their captor and Gwaine were hacking at two other Hill Tribesmen and Tyrion was bashing one in the head with the kite shaped shield.

"Ghost, to me." Jon said, beckoning and the Direwolf came. "Good boy." He whispered, stroking his huge head. Tyrion threw Ghost a look and Jon stood as the Direwolf wandered off.

"You're first?" The Sellsword asked and Tyrion was panting. But the Imp still managed to nod. "You need a woman. Nothin' like a woman after a fight."

"There is none." Tyrion replied and the man nodded. "Your name?" The dwarf requested and the man glanced around.

"Bronn." He said at last.

"Thank you Bronn." Jon said before Tyrion could. The Sellsword looked at him with surprise. "For saving his life," Jon motioned to Tyrion. "His nephew will be pleased."

Bronn nodded. "You know my name, but I don't know yours." He said and Jon bent down to wipe Longclaw on the corpse of a Tribesman.

"Jon Snow." He said as he stood, sheathing the Valyrian steel sword. Bronn nodded at him.

The Bastard of Winterfell looked around and surveyed the damage; most of the Knights were dead and it appeared as if Bronn was all that remained of the Mercenaries. Two of the Lannister guards were dead and Mikel was the only Winterfell guard still breathing.

All that remained was their Captor, three Vale Knights, himself, Tyrion, Bronn, Mikel, Gwaine and a Bard. Jon knew that, if they tried to escape, they could be cut down by the Hill Tribesmen, if not by the men escorting them to the Vale of Arryn.

Their Captor then turned and his sword was still out. "Get on those horses, we need to ride for the Bloody Gate; we'll make it in a day's ride."

Gwaine snorted contemptuously. "Those horses are piss poor tired, your more than likely kill them." He sneered and the man growled at them.

"We all ride, or," He motioned with his sword to all but Tyrion, Jon and Gwaine. "We ride and you three can walk. Your decision." With seemingly great reluctance, Gwaine mounted his courser.

Jon moved with Tyrion, aiding the dwarf onto his horse and slyly giving him a wicked looking dagger. Tyrion nodded at him and Jon turned, gingerly mounting Lyanna. Ghost appeared at his heel with a dead rabbit clutched in his powerful jaws.

He eased Lyanna into a gentle trot and followed after the reduced party.

* * *

They had been in the Vale for a few days and Jon remembered how 'welcoming' Lady Stark's sister had been. It wasn't that much of an improvement from her sister. After she had had words with Lord Tyrion and sent him off to the side, she had turned her attention to Ser Gwaine and himself.

"_You look strikingly like Renly Baratheon." She said, her voice grated through Jon and he turned his head to meet the gaze of Gwaine._

"_I would figure so, I am his son my Lady." He replied with and she seemed surprised. _

"_Then I welcome you to the Vale." She said after a few moments of terse silence. "You shall have our hospitality."_

_And then her gaze turned to Jon as Gwaine bowed. Jon felt slight disgust as he looked at her. She was the vilest person he'd met for sure; who still allows their children to suckle them at seven years old? _

_He met her eyes and he met her glare with the solid iciness of the Kings of Winter. "You're my sister's shame, aren't you?" She said, jostling her shoulder as her sickly looking son looked up. "Aren't you?!" She cried impatiently. "The honourable Ned Stark's bastard."_

"_I am no one's shame." He said stiffly, and rather stupidly, Jon thought, he added; "Whatever shame was wrought upon Lady Catelyn was done so when my Father lay with another." _

_The Lady of the Vale recoiled as if he had slapped her. "How dare you bastard?!" She hissed. "You are speaking to the Lady of the Vale." _

_Jon blinked at that. Lady Catelyn was the most composed sister out of the two. She only glared at him and treated him coldly. Lysa Arryn was actually verbally belittling him._

"_I could have you thrown through the Moon Door bastard, you and the Imp." She carried on, and Jon once again silently cursed his slightly rebellious, Tyrion corrupted tongue as he replied._

"_My Father is Hand of the King. You couldn't kill me without antagonising him." He said with a small smirk and she gasped. The Knights of the Vale murmured to themselves._

"_Knights of the Vale!" She shouted, and they quieted. She never broke eye contact. "Take the bastard and the Imp. Send them to the Sky-Cells for the murder of your Lord; Jon Arryn!"_

_Jon Snow regarded her with irritation. He'd never met, not even once, Jon Arryn. How could he have killed someone who he hadn't met before?_

_He voiced his denial allowed but he was punched with a steel fist in the gut._

Luckily, he and Tyrion shared a cell. Their keeper, Mord, wasn't entirely intelligent. And they hadn't been gifted with food or water, and the hidden wine skin he had hidden in his jerkin was gone before the first night had been dispersed with the rising sun, as was his sword Longclaw.

Jon hoped that Gwaine had kept Ghost safe for him. But now, they were being called by the Lady Regent of the Vale and her son. They were to be presented before a court of Lords and Knights, presumably handpicked by the Lady Lysa.

Jon and Tyrion had discussed their plan the night previous.

"_We will demand a trial by combat. If she is stupid enough to put us on trial together then you can be our Champion." Tyrion had said and Jon felt a flaw in the plan._

"_Even so, two people will need two champions. We could get Gwaine to champion you." Jon's reply was met with a snort. _

"_She's probably prohibited him from attending. The bitch." Tyrion's comment brought a short laugh from Jon._

"_And if she gives us separate trials?" Jon questioned and Tyrion's lips quirked upward._

"_Trial by combat again. But I do doubt it; if she wanted single trials, she should have called us separately." Tyrion said and Jon blinked in soundless surprise._

They were lead up to the room they were brought to on their initial arrival, but know there were lords and ladies and knights and squires present. Atop the crowds, on the dais and tree throne, was the little Lord Robert and the Lady Regent.

When the boy saw Jon and Tyrion he gave a slight squeal and pointed at them. "Is this the bad men? Mummy?" He asked, a strange glint entered his eyes.

"It is my Sweetrobin." The unhinged woman replied, stroking his loose black hair.

The little lord giggled, eyeing Tyrion with childlike wonder. "He's little." Robert Arryn said.

His mother nodded. "He's Tyrion the Imp, of House Lannister." Lady Arryn informed her son. "He killed your Father; he murdered the Hand of the King."

Tyrion tutted as murmurs broke out among the Lords and Ladies of the court. "Dear me," He drawled. "I've been a very busy man."

Jon thought it amusing that both Tully sisters were cold and withering to those they disliked. "You will hold your tongue!" The woman said. Her eyes gleamed when she motioned to the armoured Knights with hands rested on their swords. "These men are Knights of the Vale. Every one of them loved Jon Arryn and every one of them would die for me."

"If any harm befalls myself and my companions, my nephew, Prince Arthur, and my brother, Jaime, will see that they do." Tyrion replied, his tone even.

Jon ignored the little boy as he jumped to his feet and screeched out a tantrum, rather his eyes scanned the room, looking for any sign of his treasured sword and his beloved Direwolf. While he was at it, his eyes searched for Gwaine.

His eyes were roaming and he turned his head slightly to get a glimpse of the people behind him and he was quite surprised to discover that the Sellsword, Bronn, was still at the Vale.

"Do you know why you are here?" Lady Arryn asked, her hand resting on Little Robert's shoulders. "You are here to answer for your crimes."

Jon glanced at Tyrion before he spoke. "My Lady," He said and he felt the gaze of the court on him. "What crimes are we accused of?"

The woman blinked seemingly flustered, before she replied. "For the murder of Jon Arryn."

Jon opened his mouth, a retort on his tongue but a look from Tyrion silence him. "I'm very sorry," The Imp smiled as the words fled his mouth. "But I haven't an inkling about that. I was under the impression that the old Hand passed away due to his advanced age."

The woman lost her smile after that. "But," The Halfman said. "I will confess to the most heinous of crimes … my Lords and Ladies."

"When I was seven, I witnessed one of the maids under the service of my Father bathing and I stole her robe. She was forced to return to her station naked, ashamed and in tears." Tyrion closed his eyes in mock horror. "When I try to go to sleep at night, I can still see her tits bounce."

Jon released a snort of laughter. "And then when I was ten, I filled my Uncle's boots with pig shit and blamed his squire. Poor Frederick was flogged and I escaped unscathed and unpunished." Tyrion said and titters broke out through the court.

"Enough!" The hiss was serpentine as Lysa Arryn rose from the throne of the Arryn's. "You've had your fill of laughter. Mord, escort our guests back to new chambers; a smaller cell with an even steeper floor." Jon snapped his gaze back to the Lady Regent and subtly moved himself to be in front of Tyrion.

"Is this how justice is done in the Vale?" Tyrion demanded, his eyes sharper than his brother's sword. "You accuse my friend and I for a crime we did not commit, when we deny it, you lock us up to freeze and starve."

"Where is the King's justice?" Tyrion's question lead to several Lords and Ladies whispering their agreement and uneasiness on the face of Lysa Arryn. "Jon and I are accused and demand a trial!"

Lysa Arryn's nervous glance faded immediately. "If you're both tried and found guilty, then by the King's own laws – Bastard, Imp – you will pay with your lives." The woman's tone suggested that she would enjoy it.

"We understand the law." Jon spoke before Tyrion did.

Lysa Arryn shot him a nasty look, which paled in comparison to her sisters, Jon mused, but Lady Stark had seventeen years of practice.

"We have no executioner in the Eyrie. Life is more elegant here." She said with a disturbing smile that was matched by her son. She turned her head to the left and addressed to men. "Open the Moon Door." She ordered.

Jon turned his attention to the two men who slowly rotated an ornate wheel that caused a hole to open up in the ground less than two feet away.

The woman turned her attention back to Tyrion. "You want a trial, my Lord Lannister." Tyrion nodded. "And you too … Lord Snow." Jon clenched his jaw when the nickname for him from Ser Alliser Thorne was heard once again by his ears. "Very well then. My son will listen to whatever it is you have to say and you will hear his judgement."

Tyrion scowled at that, while Jon grimaced at the injustice. "Then you will leave." Lysa Arryn told them. "By one door or the other."

But Tyrion Lannister truly lived up to his ancestor's cunning; the cunning of Lann the Clever as he declined the offer of an unfair trial. "No need to bother yourself, Lord Rob. I demand trial by combat." His desire of freedom caused the members of the court to titter and giggle.

Jon felt a stab of satisfaction when the Lady Regent's face contorted into a look of worry. "You have that right." She agreed

A Knight stepped forward. "I beg the honour. Let me be your champion." Lady Arryn observed him momentarily before another man stepped forward.

"The honour should be mine." This one declared. "For the love I bore your Lord husband, let me avenge his death."

More and more Knights expressed their desire to be the champion of Lady Arryn, but they were all silenced when the little Lord Robert shouted; "Make the bad men fly!"

Then the Lady Arryn turned to Knight, somewhere behind Jon but he didn't dare turn around. "Ser Vardis." She called and the Knight stepped forward. "You're quiet. Don't you want to avenge my husband?"

Ser Vardis kneeled in front of Tyrion and Jon. "I do, with all my heart, my Lady." Lysa Arryn has look of clear pleasure on her face. "But," The Knight continued. "The Imp is half my size. It would be shameful to slaughter such a man and call it justice."

Tyrion shot him a quick look when the Knight turned to face him, but the Imp's mismatched gaze coolly returned to Lady Lysa. "Agreed." He uttered.

Lysa Arryn frowned. "You demanded a trial by combat." She said and Tyrion released a humourless chuckle.

"And now I demand a champion." Tyrion said with a smile. "I have that right, same as you." He informed her smartly.

Ser Vardis stood with a nod at the Lady Regent of the Vale. "I will gladly fight the Halfman's champion for you, Lady Arryn." The Knight replied to the unvoiced question.

The Knight turned to Tyrion who smirked darkly. "I wouldn't be too glad, Ser. I name my brother Jaime Lannister." He said loudly. Instantly, whispers and looks were exchanged by members of the court while the Lady Regent glared.

"The Kingslayer is hundreds of miles from here."

The Imp's reply was one filled with such boredom. "Send a raven for him." He said. "I'm happy to wait."

The woman smiled that disturbing smile and her words sounded victorious. "The trial will be today." She declared and Tyrion grimaced quickly.

"Then my friend Jon is my champion." Tyrion said after a moment of debilitation.

But once more the Lady Arryn shook her head. "He will be fighting for his own freedom; you will need a new champion." Jon glanced at Tyrion who looked down.

With a sigh, and a grimace, he turned around. "Do I have a volunteer?" His question was met with smothered chuckles and barely concealed snorts. "Anyone," The Imp carried on, unaffected by the laughter.

The little Lord giggled loudly and Lysa was smiling and Jon smirked when Tyrion's next few words echoed through the room and wiped the look of cruel amusement off of her face. "I will be in the debt of the person who stands for me. Remember, Lannister's always pay their debts."

No one moved and Tyrion scowled as he turned back around. The Lady Regent was smiling now. But before any garbage could spill from her lips, Bronn, the Sellsword Tyrion befriended, stepped forward.

"I'll stand for the dwarf." Bronn said, the left side of his face curled into a grin. Tyrion turned to him with a small smile and Bronn nodded at him with a raised eyebrow.

Jon turned to Mord and raised his wrists. Hissing and grumbling, the illiterate and unintelligent man unlocked the iron on his wrists.

Jon turned back around and rubbed his wrists. "My Lady, I would require my sword back." He said and she ordered it so, albeit reluctantly.

A man threw him his belt and Longclaw. Jon unveiled the Valyrian steel bastard sword and released his grip on the heavy leather belt and sheath.

"Shield?" A man asked and Jon shook his head, an action he noticed was mirrored by Bronn.

A Knight walked forward, also without a shield, and stood opposite Jon and next to Ser Vardis (who had a shield), who was facing Bronn.

Beside Jon, to the left, the Moon Door was open and the wind fluttered his hair.

"BEGIN!" The order was screeched out by Lord Robert. Jon raised Longclaw and noticed Bronn doing the same beside him with his own sword.

"They're both wearing armour; move about and wear them down, or we'll get shredded." Bronn whispered and Jon nodded.

The man he was facing walked forward and heaved his sword up, a sword which Jon recognised as a claymore. The man wielded it one handed, but the weight would slow him down.

Jon beckoned with Longclaw and the man charged him. Jon ducked the side swipe and moved away with a quick strafe.

The man growled and struck again. Jon parried the blow and quickly swung the bastard sword away from the claymore, over his head where he grasped Longclaw with two hands and swung high above the left side of his head.

The Knight barely dodged it, and the suddenness of Jon's lunge forced the man to retreat. Jon attacked again, but the man caught the blade with his claymore. He pushed Jon back and raised the claymore high above his head and brought it down in a two handed strike.

Jon strafed quickly to the left and behind the man. He lifted his foot up to kick the back of the Knight's knee when he hastily dropped to the floor and rolled out of the way to avoid the Knight's sudden, half turn and side strike, which would have cleaved him in two.

Jon gathered his wits and scrambled to his feet as the man swung once more. Jon leapt out the way, before lunging at the Knight. He connected with his fist and sword hilt, which knocked off his helm.

Jon reared when the man yelled and swung again. He dodged and he backed up. His back hit Bronn's, with the Sellsword and the Bastard sharing a look before rolling around each other and swapping opponents.

Jon connected with a double handed horizontal slash against Ser Vardis, who raised his kite shaped shield in time to block the attack.

Jon gave some ground as a quick plan formed in his mind, and when Ser Vardis took the bait, moving his shield to the side to swing his sword with some strength at Jon, the Bastard Wolf deflected the blow away and quickly stabbed his blade into the side of the Knight's leg.

He ran it across the side, cutting through flesh and cloth. He moved back and Ser Vardis fisted his leg with his sword hand. Jon faintly heard Tyrion's proclamation of 'Yes!'

The Sellsword backed up into Jon again, and with a strong tug, pulled Jon to the ground as the claymore flew overhead.

The claymore buried itself into the shield of Ser Vardis, who yelled in pain. Jon and Bronn swapped opponents again with wordless commands.

Jon warily judged his opponent who was growling and snarling with anger. They circled one another, their eyes meeting and glaring at the other. The man clicked his jaw and ran at Jon who clumsily allowed him to collide with him. The man hit him with such force that Longclaw flew from his grip and landed precariously on the edge of the Moon Door, where it started to tip.

Jon gasped when several blows hit his unprotected stomach. Winded, he was unprepared for the strike across the face. The Knight heaved up Jon by the throat and Jon repeated the same move he pulled on the Wight in Castle Black; he smashed his elbow and arm on the Knight's arms, which forced the Knight to drop him.

Then, Jon leapt and delivered a punch to the man's nose. The Bastard scrambled away from the painful yelp and in the direction of Longclaw.

He was on his hands and knees, crawling like a wolf stalking his prey when his right hand wrapped around Longclaw's leather clad hilt. Jon rolled onto his back and lifted the blade, just as the man jumped at him. The Valyrian steel bastard sword pierced the man through the abdomen and Jon had to lift his feet up to kick the man off of the blade.

Panting, Jon stood shakily and walked over to the man who struggled to his feet. With his left hand, Jon dragged him over to the stone benches around the Moon Door and placed his head on the stone.

With a deep breath and a face as cold as his Father's, Jon cleaved his head from his body, which rolled out of the Moon Door.

His body soon followed.

* * *

"That was good sword work there, boy." Bronn was saying as Jon, Tyrion, Gwaine and himself were riding down the paths to the Bloody Gate.

Gwaine had managed to convince the Lady Lysa to return their mounts and enough food to reach the nearest Inn outside the Vale.

Lyanna was happy, Jon could tell, as she nickered. Jon reached down with half an apple and fed it to her with a grin. He patted her neck and turned to Bronn.

"Thank you." He said. "You're not so bad yourself." Bronn laughed and raised his wine skin with a nod in the direction of Jon.

"Ser Gwaine." Jon called and the man turned.

"Jon." The Knight replied.

"Will we be travelling to King's Landing?" He questioned and Gwaine considered it.

"Mayhaps, unless words got to the Old Lion about Tyrion's capture. It depends on Tyrion."

But the Halfman waved them off, saying he had Bronn with him. They were at a crossroad, with one road leading to King's Landing and the other to the Riverlands.

"Why are you going to the Riverlands?" Jon asked and Tyrion smirked knowingly.

"I know my Father, he would attack Lysa Tully's girlhood home first." Tyrion had replied with.

Gwaine snorted. "How do you know your Father would have started a war for you?" He asked and Tyrion smiled again.

"Like I said, I know Tywin Lannister." The Dwarf had replied before setting off in a trot down the road. Gwaine raised his eyebrow and gestured to Jon with his hand as Knight and Squire urged their horses down the road to King's Landing.

Jon hoped they made it back in time for the Melee.

A few days later, when they were staying at an Inn, a two day ride from King's Landing, Jon and Gwaine discovered that Ned Stark had been attacked by Jaime Lannister for being related to Lysa Arryn and in retaliation for the abduction of Tyrion.

Now Jon wished to be in King's Landing for completely different reasons.

* * *

**Okay, here we go, I probably won't update for quite some time now, so indefinitely this will be my last chapter for a good couple of weeks, but this story will still be being written, I just won't be updating as regularly as I can.**

**War Sage –** Thank you!

**Valliantice – **Thank you, and I hope you enjoy this one.

**My Lord Doctor6735 – **Once again, ahaha, thank you!

**Malyx Blackfyre –** Thanks.

**King – **Arthur is still a bit disbelieving about the whole thing with Rhaenys/Ariana… He will meet the old friend in quite a few more chapters, he thinks the dream is just a dream.

**GuardianOfTheUniverse – **Here you go my friend!

**Guest #1 – **Gendry might, I don't know yet… ;) A group full of bastards eh? Don't think Maya will be able to come, just yet.

**Guest #2 – **Yep, I hope that scene was believable enough! Merlin or Excalibur … too tough to choose from, don't you agree? I don't want to make him see overpowered with both, but I don't cross that bridge just yet anyway.

And yes, I have big plans for that union…

**Saint River –** Yes, well I like to be a bit unpredictable… It may be a bit of both…

And Excalibur won't necessary have magical powers here, for quite some time.


	16. Prince Arthur IIII

**Cold Wind Blows**

_This is an AU of George R.R Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' universe but it will follow, in a way, the plot of the series. The story will integrate the Legend of King Arthur into the story. I do not own anything, nor do I claim to._

**Chapter 16: Tourney – Melee**

* * *

Tiredness was in his bones, and the young Black Lion was gruff and snappish with most people, he had been for the past few days. Ever since word came of his Uncle Tyrion's capture and imprisonment in the Eyrie with his cousin and said cousin's squire.

To top it all off, his rash Uncle Jaime had decided that, due to marriage, Eddard Stark was the closest person he could harm that was both related to the Lady Lysa and someone the Vale had once cherished as their adopted son, in retaliation for Tyrion's unlawful capture.

The night before last, Jaime had ridden out to join Arthur's Grandfather, who had launched a successful counterattack on the Riverlords. And now, with Ned Stark incapacitated, King Robert preferring to drown in his cups, the state of affairs had fallen to his Mother… and Joffrey.

Arthur really could not be bothered with his older brother, although the twinges of guilt still remained whenever his blue-green eyes met with the grey or blue of the Stark children. So far, the tourney for Ned Stark's anointment as Hand of the King and his Nameday celebration would be over by the days end; it was the day of the melee.

The Melee of all melees, the one were Arthur **would** gain his Knighthood.

But right now, he wasn't overly concerned with the melee. Rather, he was more concerned with the beautiful brunette enclosed within his arms, their nude bodies stuck together by their own sweat, derived from their vigorous lovemaking.

Even though she was six years his senior, and a former whore to boot – even though Arthur had taken her virginity the same night she had taken his – Arthur craved this girl. This woman; a Dornish woman. He desired her as his bride. He had, ever since his time spent in the realm of the sleeping, back when he had dreams of an older version of himself with the woman… and calling her Rhaenys.

The dream was pleasant enough, but calling her Rhaenys. Arthur shrugged it off at first, believing it to be nonsense. But then he noticed, per mistake of course, how similar she was to a mixture of Dragon blood and Dornish blood. The purple eyes, a Valyrian trait, her dark skin, the Dornish trait.

At first he passed it off as her being an abandoned bastard of someone of House Velaryon, but then he had remembered her age; she was six years his senior, just like the former, long lost Princess.

Arthur knew he would never reach the same intelligence, or even be on par, with the mind of his Uncle Tyrion, nor would he have the mind for politics, like his Grandfather had. But, the young man believed himself to be of average cleverness, which was something many men could not claim, after one too many blows to the head.

But it did seem oddly… peculiar that a woman, of twenty Namedays just happened to be in that whorehouse, untouched and cautiously willing to enter his bed, was the same age as Princess Rhaenys and of similar appearance to the dead Princess Elia. It was far too convenient.

And yet still, the Black Lion still did not approach her, the woman whom he held and who he knew held his heart. She arched sleepily into his form and Arthur quickly shut his eyes and pretended he was asleep.

The black haired Prince pulled her closer to him and he heard a contented sigh escape his lover's lips. He opened his eyes after a moment and considered Ariana; perhaps she had just moved unconsciously.

Arthur remembered when he first laid eyes on her; with her long hair and tanned skin, tight body wraps of pure white wrapped around her precious parts and practically summoning the lust crazed lords who desired a virgin girl.

But, alas, Arthur beat them to it; he dragged her to a private room he knew his Uncle boasted of and he explained who he was. He was patient and he charmed her, and the two spoke.

He took her from the whorehouse and to the house he had bought for her the very same night he had taken her. And still they spoke. He made no advances on her and this allowed her to open up more.

He was patient, and a week after their first encounter, she came to his bed willingly. She gave herself to him, willingly. And he stayed with her for two more days before promising to return with a deed for the house and some ladies in waiting for her.

And return he did. He was rewarded, of course, Ariana rewarded him for a second time with her tight cunt.

Silently, so that he would not wake her, Arthur withdrew from the comfort of her bed and dressed quietly. As he left, he dropped his thoughts on Rhaenys and Ariana, and instead, he focused on the upcoming Melee.

* * *

A strike dispatched the fallen. The knight in the majestic steel plate armour (with gold trimmings and a stag helm) moved effortlessly through the mass of metal bodies and the swing of sharpened blades.

He blocked and attacked as he moved, knocking down the men to the cheer of the crowd. He raised his sword to the roaring of the crowd's approval and then he turned to counter a quick strike from a lightly armoured fighter.

Arthur batted the man's next blow to the side and collided his left fist across his opponents face. The man reeled back and Arthur's gaze locked onto the man's.

The sound faded and all Arthur could hear was the pounding of his heart, the pump of his blood and the heavy breathing echoing from his chest.

He blocked a quick strike and countered with a quick disarming motion. As his opponent's sword fell to the floor, Arthur lifted his foot and buried it into his opponent's stomach.

The Black Prince pivoted quickly and backed up at the sight of Ser Barristan Selmy. Selmy engaged him calmly and Arthur brought up his sword in an arc to block the incoming strike.

The Prince retreated, his sword clanging as he fought with extreme effort to keep pace with the old, but exceptionally skilled Knight.

He backed up, right into the royal box, with his sword dancing with the old Knight's as he fought for what he wanted.

With the speed of youth, and a fair amount of luck, Arthur executed a move from his Uncle Jaime's arsenal; he waited for Ser Barristan's next overhand strike and he leapt sideways, out of the sword's sharp edge and smashed the hilt of Roaring Fury over Ser Barristan's helm.

The strike had splintered the stag's head, spraying wooden shards everywhere and then Arthur finished the manoeuvre by kicking Ser Barristan in the back of his leg.

It was a testament to his experience that the elderly Knight stood afterwards and turned once more to face the Prince.

But before either one could strike at each other, Arthur was looking up at the sky, his helm a good five meters from his body and his hand empty of his sword. The crowd fell silent as the Black Prince, still dazed, stayed on the floor from the unexpected attack of Darkstar, who was now in a serious engagement with Ser Barristan.

The King could be heard, roaring for his second born to get to his feet. "Get up, boy! He barely touched you! On your feet man! Where's the fight?"

Then, slowly, still completely out of it, Arthur scrambled to his feet and promptly fell back down. The Prince shook his head, his midnight black curls waving as he shook his head, as if to clear it from whatever was effecting him.

He reached for his sword and straightened out.

Arthur breathed heavily as his eyes measured up Darkstar. As much as he loathed to, the Prince simply could not go to the aid of the Lord Commander. His attacker was slowly, but surely hammering the old man down and, as Arthur took a quick glance around, leaving himself, Darkstar and another young man.

While Arthur was having a breather and cautiously keeping an eye on his two opponents, Darkstar had just knocked out the elderly man with a vicious kick to the jaw.

Then, like a predator, he turned around.

Abruptly, Arthur straightened and raised his sword. Darkstar removed his helm and smirked. The third man was balancing irregularly on a sword-staff, swaying and made no move to remove his helm.

Darkstar dropped his helm and raised his own sword. Together, the three were separate in equal lengths, and they stepped in tune with one another as they circled, waiting for the first move.

Arthur wasn't stupid enough to rush either of his competitors; he simply watched and waited, whilst his guard refused to drop.

The third warrior was much the same; after all, he was favouring his left leg and was in no hurry to aggravate his injury.

It was simply a matter of Darkstar's impatience, or if one of them took a step to quick and neared the other as they continued to circle.

But, Arthur thought, it was more than likely Darkstar's impatience than their misstep.

And he was right. The silver haired man rushed the man with a gimp, and Arthur immediately launched himself at Darkstar. Obviously the violet-eyed idiot had thought that Arthur would stand by and watch, again.

Even so, it was still a free for all contest, Arthur mused as he hastily ducked a swinging sword-staff and countered before spinning and blocked Darkstar's sudden advance.

Arthur threw a blind mule kick at the Third with a gimp and ushered Darkstar forward with an elaborate strike.

His strike was countered and Arthur pivoted out of the way of the retorting attack. Just in time, as the Third launched himself at Darkstar, only to be refuted and kicked in the gimp.

Arthur glanced a bow off the hilt of the Third's sword-staff, likely chopping a finger off in the process, and turned to counter Darkstar's vicious thrust. The disgraced Knight of the High Hermitage Dayne's smirked at the second-born Prince. His eyes, those purple eyes, crinkled with dark humour. Arthur realised a second too late that he had exposed himself to the Third man. He tried to turn, to put himself into a position to block both of his adversaries but the Third had thrusted quick and true – Arthur barely managed to get out of the way – and the blade pierced Darkstar.

Darkstar gasped, dropped his sword and fell to his knees. Blood spurted out of his mouth and words followed along with it. From these words provoked the renowned Baratheon rage and Arthur's sword swooped through the neck of Darkstar as if it were thin air; the swipe was that powerful that it cut through the chest shaft of the Third's sword-staff and rested at his throat.

Darkstar's head rolled in the sand and all around him the crowd was roaring.

He'd won the tourney but had done so dishonourably.

He wasn't worthy of being a 'Ser'.

* * *

"What was that out there?"

Arthur was before the King, hours after he had killed Darkstar and won the melee of the Hand. His father was furious – relations with Dorne weren't powerful to begin with, but now… nobody, save mayhaps his father, desired a war yet it looked to be looming because he couldn't control his temper.

"Eh boy? What made you kill that man?"

Arthur didn't respond. He couldn't. The Darkstar had told him some revelations that, if true, was not something he desired to be brought out into the open.

So instead of telling the truth, he decided to lie. "Well?"

After some hesitation, he replied "Darkstar told me that he'd raped a friend of mine. I got angry and… you saw the rest."

Robert eyed him shrewdly and turned to his Hand. "Send a letter of apology to Dorne… not much to be done about an irreversible act."

Arthur watched as Eddard Stark bowed and left the hall. "The only kin of that Dayne bastard are the ones from Starfall… and if there are any truths to the rumours of Darkstar, not many people will be said to see him go. But that doesn't mean you aren't getting punished – go to the practice yard with Ser Meryn, Clegane and the Kingslayer."

As far as Arthur was concerned it wasn't too bad of a punishment for disrupting the King's peace – but then he realised he had killed someone on his Nameday… he'd reap what he had sown all year long know.

He also realised his punishment was to protect himself against the Hound, his uncle Jaime and Meryn Trant for the rest of the day. The blunted swords they used fucking hurt and they all returned to the keep sporting bruises and cuts of various shapes and sizes in the early hours of the morning.

Arthur, in the sheets of his bed, established that Darkstar's claims that Ariana was Rhaenys Targaryen lay too close to his previous observations to be good. He'd confront her on the morrow.

Yet when the morrow came, she was gone – she wasn't in any whorehouse, nor in any other establishment that offered whores – not in the Red Keep and most certainly not in her home. A letter rested on his bed the evening he returned from fruitlessly searching for his lover.

It was addressed to Arthur and signed off as Rhaenys.

* * *

It's been over a year since I last updated this. For personal reasons, I decided to leave the story as it was, only half-finishing chapter sixteen with stuff that is not what I originally had in mind – it is therefore a rushed piece of half-decent words.

I doubt it would abate the anger nor the annoyance you must feel at this, but I have, from this time on, elected to pose a rewrite that would be a lot more elegant than this.

I have started to write it, but I will only upload when I have rewritten all of the original chapters and that will be once a week, giving me a good time to update.

Thank you for supporting this story and reviewing, those reviews were what helped me realise I needed to rewrite.

TheInsaneDuckkie


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